A snow filled plain stretches for miles in her mind
desolate.
cold.
senseless.
freedom is the only
kind of slavery i seem
to feel
anymore.
the whole world is so serene.
no. forget that bulls**t.
the whole world is dead.
theres nothing else to it,
everyone person here is walking around
with their life at their feet.
god left long ago,
and he isn't coming back.
Hes another deadbeat junkie dad
that lost track of their kids a millenia ago.
and why should he be any different? huh?
Do you have any fitting answers?
WHAT THE F**K IS THERE TO SAY ANYMORE?
i started this with a plain
emotionless.
white.
a simple expression of disinterest
appears at the top of the hill
directly underneath the pile of snow
she feels her feet begin to sink, and struggles to stay afloat.
theres isn't anything
to grab onto here.
the world wasn't created
with her in mind.
and the world will be fine
without her here.
color spewed forth,
every hue another shade of light,
transparent and rich.
simple lines and shapes across her brow buried her in time
with the sins she committed to paper.
we are wandering vagabonds, and noone is exempt from this cosmos clearance sale.
our color TVs feed us advertisements the same manner we procreate.
another image created without the consumer in mind.
god left her there
to drown in the snow.
somehow she kept walking away from him. from me even.
when did it become that we weren't needed anymore?
Are we just myths? Are we wallflowers in a clearing?
who is bearing our children?
