evermore,
sent silently
to mindless receptors
to silence
the screaming
they resonate across
planar lifestyles

suffer and god-speed,
as you spend time, hastily,
spending life's duality,
separated justly in increments
as needed; thusly,
subjected and fermenting,
boldly going where none have gone before.

Spread your wings
my pretty little dead things
and fly from your graves.

Flee the ground you're in
and let renewed life begin
as another sould idea.

You're only restrained
by half-brained
visionary tales and ideals.

So, spread your wings,
my pretty little dead things,
and learn to fly on your own.

to blame this
on anyone but myself
would be a catastrophe;
shattering what's left
of humanity.

drink, drank, drunk
into submission,
a fact; death awaits.
inevitability flows into
sanctity
at the end of a six-pack.

heavy concentration in time's
essence, foiled by delights,
intransigent by the world.
lost in paternal void
to fulfill some design
of desire, desolate.

driven by self glorification,
built on altruism, untrue
in every sense of self,
losing touch as you lose your mind.