modernator

"there are only two types of stories: either someone
comes and knocks on the door, or someone goes on a
journey."
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noise becomes sound pollution
drowning out every last audible note.
white noise melds with sirens.
those piercing sirens! they carry me into a
shallow, muffled coma.
when will the crust begin to fall from my eyes?
i am longing to awaken.
graze your healing fingertips across my rosy cheeks.
i consider it a modern tragedy that
i can't see, can't hear, can't feel, and am
ceasing to be. slowly...
please bring me back into my mundane existence.
it's the one thing that i long for.
oh, to hear the darkness bubbling over
with rattles and clanks, then
fusing harmoniously with symphonies
only an angel can sing. it is glorious,
joyous, and pristine! the gray area; the gray matter
holds me firmly in your love.
your voice penetrates my empty ears.
my hollow, broken auditory vessels become filled.
then, you complete me.
the pollution dissolves and all becomes clear.
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thought flash. vaporize- gone...
another proverbial atomic bomb levels the
brain. it's like too much cocaine.
saliva drenched chin. bloody bursting eyes.
thoughts become atomized. finish the wine.
bomb, bomb, bomb that line!
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xerox a statement and put it everywhere.
don't contribute to this sick materialistic society.
sitting in the bathroom while the camera's rolling,
everyone loves exactly how detached you guys come off.
works is finally empty. you've got that h in your veins.
chronic coughing, stomach pains.
march ushers in a slow descending spiral.
you've got bloody holes blooming.
they let your ego bleed out.
love won't save you, shotgun to your mouth.
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