fake spilled floor silenced

cadence teardrop senseless sentence.

and then it all blows up.

the figurines, the sex, careless flesh all around mixed with alcohol

everyone drowning private issues in public disgrace.

paying for someone else to lick their tasteless wounds,

suffocate them, tie them, smell them, curse them.

and when the rituals are finnally over,

return to their homes, where they choose to hide.

just let everything out, and then slit your innner thoughts.

just bottle up your demands and differences.

just let it creep up no more,

and sleep for a while.

why have to make choices.

why can't it be like the coming and going of the sea,

keeping the tide warm, free of riddles and cliffs.

i cant even understand anymore,

and my eyes wont cry.

let it be said that destiny is chosen by few,

but confronted by all of us.

and then again, if you choose sleep, or if you choose not to be awake,

then you may not be choosing at all.