Burning off the remnants
Who are you? I got to experience your expertise.
Informed and static. Stiff and robotic.
Some sort of virus spreading.
Force yourself upon people who did not ask for your propaganda and invade on people’s private space.
Do you have some sort of problem with sensing personal boundaries? A sensor out of order. You haven’t thought of becoming a priest, because you’re really good at preaching…?
You’re going to have to let go of those old antiques because we’re having a huge purge. Evacuation. Burning off the last remnants.
The remains will be gathered and used as pig feed.
Those bland butchers? I will not go into that wound because there have been too much splatter.
Just focusing on survival. Having some confused moments and some subconscious activities during trance like states.
Detour in those narrow sickening corridors. Stuck in this instillment.
Staring at the same graffiti wall. Tears falling on the floor.
You don’t come through my filter because you’re too infected and unwarranted.
Sleep deprivation. Self annihilation.
Are you sobbing? I’m here for you on conditional terms.
Intricate stories unfolding.
Bugger off bluff, with the mask on.
I see right through you and your hidden motives, vampiric nonexistent being.
Burning off the last remnants.
The relentless picking apart of my soul. Torture express.
Sort yourself out while still alive but now dead inside and can barely function any longer.
Why does that icy redhead pop up in the outlands to bug me like a puppet in the nightmare process? With billy goat legs and an enlarged reptilian brain and vampiric essence.
Sludge hasten. Brooding ruminations.
You have accomplished more than expected.
Neat testdrive. Fiddle with that lighter.
Sad existence deep down in the grave. Swallow your pain again and again.
You roll in the dough.
Whatever life throws at you, better catch it or sit numb and let it drop down on the floor and crash into a million pieces.
It’s all a part of the game, so insane.