s/t

These skulls are all empty or just filled up with trash. One step forward there lies a trap, so instincts lead us two steps back. Soon enough, boiling waters will rise and we will all sink. Tragedy cradled in the lap of irony. We relinquish the throne while reaching forth into the void to reap what we have sown. A clear path laid ensures death will not ride alone.

So cold. An arm's length from warmth. Buried. Unable. Desperate ideas. Desperate grasping yields failure.

Weighted by stares. Guilty based on pumping veins full of blood. That's you in the gallery - scrutinized. Stench and sorrow. Feel the heat and sulk. Stifling sickness, heavy body, you choke. This isn't fair? Tell me what's fair. Time dies whether or not you are there. It's almost insulting - seeing you rake yourself over the coals. The trail. Your fate. The end. Just wait. It's a just way to fear. It's my room. Come in here. Summon a judge. Summon a seer. You're teeming with shame. That much is clear.