In those witching hours of the night,
masquerading in our drunken guises;
delirium termoring for attention.
Mutual loneliness vying against the other–
pathetic little caricatures.
False swagger bloating grotesque,
wax sincerity melting macabre.
Stick figure passions snapping,
broken-limb dreams–
these twisted pleasure principles.
Hormones bubbling in corrosive excess,
scouring bonds of sentience.
Anesthetized of emotion’s toil;
visceral kinesthesia on doomed auto-pilot.
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