Another day, another crushed chest - persistent
instability manifest (yet I survive);
wicked world won't allow rest - hope feels so distant,
beyond wrecked rubble landscape (my native-born hive).
Them devils still promising wealth commensurate
with merit, yet seems to be many exceptions
to the rule (and I remain illegitimate).
Analog replaced by digital deceptions -
the fog appears thicker, the whole earth feels sicker,
(and yet I'm expected to hold it together).
My numbers always lacked commas, plus the thicker
blood better than water's flawed genetic tether
to foundational faults still being overcome.
Feeling the worse for wear, but still better than sum.
sad patreon of the doomed dirtgod
No comments:
Post a Comment