Avail

Avail

Sleepy shadows slither silently slow.

Through thundering tunnels-

an alienating atmosphere-

aggressively alone.

Hollowed hearts hide haphazardly.

Fear follows fractured faces.

Longing. Lonely. Lost liabilities.

Problems profound.

Searching souls, startle simplicity.

Revolutions ruthlessly rile rigid raigems.

Cultivating change.

No. 3. Stream of Conciousness.

No. 3. Stream of Conciousness.

Soft glow of phone, reflection in mirror. Dimly lit apocalypse. Chained in an ever encumbering stare. Always scrolling, never lonely. Sweet illusion, false idols, empty ideas. Money talks, faces made of plastic. Self absorbed, scripted alibis. Botox here. Botox there. Self-sacrifices are the norm for such a chance to remain a modern delusion.