A stammer of clarity.

What a world

To fathom

And all it's cronies

In stylish clothing.

 

The last wish

To become alone

All at once.

Fuel for the tomb.

Assume a future.

 

But how does now happen?

What is the reason

For this existence

To mean something?

 

To go back and forget it

All over again

Is a dream to kill

 

In this age of craving

For something not there

Someone never present.

 

And all of this

Means nothing

For thermodynamics.