pocket full of smoke bombs, at least thats the idea

chipped black paint with a cold dead air
perfect drinking weather
the illusion of fun in small cardboard boxes filled to the brim with 1x3 blown out muddy omens
vile
flabby
and irrelevant
a full house of insults thrown around haphazardly with a chuckle or two for good measure
habitual intellectuals arguing the finer points of their favorite communist
all the while i try my best not to pay dumb
set your feet
dig in
you started out strong now its time to finish off this performance
it was going so well
it'd be a shame to falter now
darting eyes with the ability to guess age, weight and status of your fertility
its unraveling slowly
but only to your trained eye
one arm at a time
thats the ticket
thats your way out.

"i am heaven sent"

im in a forest and its chasing me.
i can smell its fetid breath.
hear its labored breathing.
i can feel its hunger.
i willed this creature into existance and now i cant seem to will it to rest.
my muscles are tiring.
i cant stop to rest
stopping is capture.
my surroundings are a reflection of my inner doubt.
this god damned mist will be the death of me.
a light comes on.
a warm presence.
a guiding light willing me to take control.
salvation lies within this light.
within me.
we build these things around ourselves.
we are the master.
face it.
stop it.

stop.

end of the world party