Dormant

beat down by a world of rejection with wrinkles staring back from that cruel mirrored reflection realizing the real world that does not rhyme like it might in the most perty of songs that we sing to ourselves in times of perfectly horrific tragedy or jokes we tell those round us to try & grasp some iota of comfort in a collapsing atmosphere & every breath is a struggle & every attempt at moving away from the past seems to be a fleeting jump in the direction of chaos where personal responsibility can seem more daunting as each passing moment rears its ugly head & every pointing finger is just another dying hollow body, here lies the titillating torment, here lies the hilarity that what one blames as the sole reason for such seemingly singular demise, that possibility of sex laying all around at the feet of the 21st century adult, that wanton human desire that creates the catalyst that topples the first crucial domino in a life of self-blame & echoing walls to scream to when the inevitable empty room surrounds, leaving one alone, leaving one sick, leaving one self-destructive & dormant, waiting for the world to give one more reason, waiting waiting waiting.