By larger being devoured,
leaving only me to improve.
Weep.
Don’t fucking weep.
Your weak eyes cry tears of the week.
Weep.
Catch up with the sheep.
It’s a sacrilegious ceremony.
New flavor of the week.
Nothing’s sacred in the faces of the soulless
(that you’re made into).
You’re raptured by a guilty stifle down.
“…And what I’ll do
is mess you up and lie to you.”
Look at you
You know it’s true.
It’s a field trip to Hollywood Babylon.
But I’m not coming.
No.