Waves of wilderness pummel toward us

Vast emptiness awaits
Paper boats lost on the ocean

We stood in line for hours
Lovers and saxophone players
Milk carton girls in magazines

The last show was sold out

We turned around
went home
The bathtub looked miles away
Ashes ground into carpet turned blanket
Wrapped up in the illusion of safety
White noise
Car horns
Endless traffic
Target practice makes perfect † † †sense

You talk in circles
They worship the words
Not the meaning/message
Heart still beating
Still born
Still breathing
Still screaming
Still seeing
Still dying
Still living
Still bleeding

Black hole humanity
Vanity breeds apathy

Whoís keeping score?
Did you win?
Was it worth it?
Do you want to play again?

There are no repeat performances

The next show will begin at 10 pm
Written by Burningbutterfly
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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