Hyperreal

Start a war on yourself and make the soil burn through your skin. Unapproved amnesty, undecided within. Light the sky with fireworks. Blood-red, undead enemies crawling up the alleys of your battlefield again. Monochrome haze spreading like a disease, your monotone gaze on the colourless streets. Cord up the bottleneck, the veil is turning black. This is hyperreal. Everyone is just a copy of myself. Omnipresent fatigue. Drip-fed sleepwalkers on their feet. While it feeds on your soul, while it devours you awhole. These futile words carved in stone are so miniscule. This is hyperreal. Everyone is just a copy of myself. Omnipresent fatigue. Drip-fed sleepwalkers on their feet. This is too hyperreal. Everyone is just a copy of myself. Omnipresent fatigue. Drip-fed sleepwalkers on their feet.