Some things, are not meant to be.
Arid cosmetics of coalition, ignorant soldiers blitzed in the contention of a crux,
My execution takes the place of the food from my plate, we gnaw the palm that provides.
Dug up pretensions, fed dark bones to the callous eyes of my murder, my sacrifice,
Blonde speckled worries, contorted in the spider web scatter of my anguish,
My self sacrifice, a device to infect the proposition of the mind, a scarab scuttles away.
Affliction like the darkest coals. Oh, jupiter scavenge the hearts contents, dismiss my fissure.
Open limbs lay scatter forward from the carefully inked ice of lakes come to pass,
I travel omen promises, breaking suggestions of the affectionate misses,
I am a broken organ, sung like every other, pounding like a broken mould of mortar.
I embrace the veins of my own swollen ego, travelled like a puncture in the tyre,
I wonder where the world has gone, letting me settle, sweetly into the empyrean,
Hold me away,
Ready my execution,
Judgement is passed.
Understand the words I utter,
Callous bitter algorithms of distaste,
Sour kisses of metaphorical delight,
Tasting emptiness in the choral shadows,
Leave me be.
Leave me be.
I won't ever do my best again.
Ever do my best again, to be the best I can.
Won't ever do my best again.
Words uttered, quite purposefully, my old friend.