another nihilistic overture,
for the impending hedonism
a callous cacophony
looks to be rather innocuous,
a brazen haze
of a lifestyle,
every night
a bohemian escapade,
thought we came far away
past life abandoned
that felt austere
yet salubrious,
this air reeks of dystopia
such a rootless feeling
keeps me riding
the nomadic hound,
a desolate heart
in a victorian home,
all around I see
empty eyes
and wretched souls,
need a shining light
for the start of something beautiful,
before the world crumbles down
fueled by fattening greed,
trees fall to the hatchet
realizing a dismal trepidation,
the fear of a blank planet.
What are you doing to save the world?
Do you even go out of your own bubble to see the world?
Do you even see the irony of the last question?
