Beautiful Collapse

One day that porcelain is going to crack and that smoky façade you cast fourth will dissipate amongst the dusty breeze. Black in your mouth, black on your fingertips. Time is elusive and reality a joke without a punchline. A princess turned beggar, nothing in this world is original. It will be no surprise when concrete meets bone. The angels linger with bats atop the trees. Looking down upon you sharing cackles and memories. Lusting for collapse. The beautiful downgrade. No faith in degeneration. One day these words will echo and resonate down to your marrow. Child, welcome this slow death called life.