A ghostly figure,
In crimson dawn,
Walk in the water fluorescence.
As tho there weren't a place to be,
Because there's not,
I step into the meaningless world.
Void of devotion,
Xenic in nature,
And food that rots to the bottom of the sea.
There stands the truth,
Convoluted and constructive in gasping irony.
A little bit more to mourn,
Cool ranches setting the desolate expectations.
The walls are paper thin,
Cool air from the heater,
The water drip dripping salvation to the ruins of rome.
Folding in on itself with contortions in the fallacy of the composite.