This is the act of death in slow motion,
Peeling ribbons of flesh from metaphors,
Until naught is left but currents of stale seawater.
We shall die as all great poets die,
Lying alone in darkened rooms,
Preaching the gospel of enlightenment.
The void as my witness,
Fleeting thoughts and whispers,
Gobbled up like breakfast.
Screaming into silence,
This is my epitaph,
A proof of existence.
Ethernet cables for blood vessels,
I am alone in the multitude,
Weeping for lost brothers like Gilgamesh.
There is no such thing as evil,
There is only corruption and stupidity,
Masquerading as petty villainy.
They gape, fuck, and gibber,
Animals in the purest sense of the word,
This world is full of shadow and light,
With no place left for the grey.
This is an act of defiance,
Slathering art across non-existence,
Eyeball to eyeball with the maw,
Grinning madly back at oblivion.
