drove to the sea
to sit by the beach
but i broke before
i could brake
wound up in a place
that once was a lake
more than i could take
gave in, became a fake
making mud castles
in the gloom.

Dystopian.

This whole class-action, happy-go-lucky, run-of-the-mill, sweet-and-sour, give-and-take potluck of a pow-wow of a conflagration that we have here is simply

Dystopian.

So You’ll sit down and stumble through
the constant metere of your inner urge
and hope to all the Gods you choose
your soul won’t leave you now

But you’ll fire on the pragmatists
who say what you do ‘can’t be done’
attempting to drive home your point
and ever won’dring how

these things have grown so damn complicated
you want to sit and rest
and forego this last fucking test,
But alas, you took a vow

So Just sit and pray
and rue your day:
Your Gods won’t save you now

I really don’t know
what’s going on here
but,

I think I’m
okay with it.

Just don’t let me catch you throwing rocks at the windows again.