The king wears a crown like no other;
Gaudy ornaments conceal a cranium of illusion and treachery.
He points to the left, executing the peaceful lamb.
Signalling to the right, he leads his people into war.
But they see and hear nothing,
For their heads are buried in the sand
With the lifeless others who dared defy the chosen one.
A life without purpose, without freedom and dreams,
Welcome to the land of nightmares.
Gone are the days of courteous suits and well-mannered sprouts.
The last drop of decency rests at the bottom of a bottle,
A shallow globe of love-drunk nobodies.
As the surviving guardians disappear
In comatose clouds of abandonment,
We hide beneath damp cloths.
Chivalry is dead.
Gray boxes are unwrapped amid
A hapless audience of frozen machines.
As we’re lost in avalanches of veiled dysphoria,
Powder snow stains steely sidewalks red.
The paparazzi flash their black flowers,
So we sport a grin and sit up straight.
It’s what we’re bred for – all we know.
But behind pink, plastic walls rests a frenzied terror.
You’ll read about it tomorrow, I’m sure.
The way you look at me,
Hide yourself from me.
These euphoric dreams
Are all I need.
It’s not impossible
To cure this madness.
It courses through my veins,
But never lasts.
Now they’re calling me,
These hollow demons.
Please let them take me.
I’ll be their last.
The walls are closing in,
Going dark again.
It’s reaching for my hand;
Time trickles away,
Moments merely whispers.
Weeks turn to months and suddenly I forget
What it’s like to be human.
I no longer recall the taste of her flesh.
The look on her face
When I told her she wasn’t the one
Is as familiar to me as a stopwatch is to a sequoia.
But not a second goes by
In this wretched existence
That I don’t remember
The sound of her shovel packing my grave.
Excrete trails of soggy static
Scorched puppets, they rip our strings
From shallow graves
A resuscitated pantomime