wistful weft

ain’t no use in tryna live
without a flying fuck to give
when everyone you know is screwed
and all the rest feign happiness

a prelude leading into plight
one might as well just take a powder
make their way to Aoshima
join the local recluse clowder

flee the quintessential has-beens
human beings, one and all
proven of their sole intention
wallowing in folderal

why not follow fate instead
and stand out from the fools and martyrs
pave the path of pithy preference
bolstered by a willful ardor

pop some pills if that should suit you
e’er the silent void awaits
all things extant soon diminish
why then, dare to contemplate?

just to sate one’s sordid ego
please, forgo that shit post-haste
morbid are the masochists
who muster all for naught but waste

chasing phantoms bleeds passe
so pass that dutchie on the left
and let us bask in blissful ignorance
amid this wistful weft

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