Writing not to escape, but to confront. Words to rub salt into open wounds. Beauty in the haunting revelations that trickle out like blood from a cut wrist. Don’t pout. Don’t look for admiration. This mess we call living is neither admirable nor charming. We are not victims. We are not survivors. Existence is all there is. Memory makes us, and memory stalks each and every step of the way. There’s no saviour, only reflections. Karma to be pissed upon. To be banished along with yesterday’s newspapers. Like all those lovers who promised so much, yet delivered only rules. The whores of recycled lust. The virgins betrayed by their own lifeless horrors. Sleep in dust. Breathe it in like it a drug of passion. Forget the meaning you kept sacred as a child and sacrifice it for safety. All that dreadful comfort shoved into any hole that will fit. Your sense of faith and security wrapped in pretty make believes. Tomorrow will be better you say, yet tomorrow never comes. Right this instant, we are wiped clean out. Defunct dreams and the passing of months akin to the passing of cars as you stand outside in the rain. You’re alone like a black eyed dog. You shiver and wince as yet another illness takes hold. Of mind and body, you are weak. Melancholy sucks you under; lethargy preventing meaningful creation. Everything sinks like a stone tossed into a river without so much as a second glance. Alcohol numbs restless voices. Pornography replacing rage. These stitches come undone. These moments stuck between the clock and the bed. Sounds muffled by sleep deprivation. Food is tasteless. Purgatory in all directions. Stay beneath the sheets and avoid all contact with others. Imagine the world on the brink of destruction. Obliterated by a shooting star, peace would come at last. Undone by the hand of calamity, heaven would come from not knowing. Restless limbs seduced so easily by warm baths. From the air above me to the sewers beneath my feet. The bridge between us crumbles with neglect. We made promises we could never keep. Sacred oaths left to scatter in the wind. Fate cast us aside. It left us covered in scars while others blossomed. The nature of the universe. The doomed realisation that we will never be free. History is now and forever. Every step already taken; every breath exhaled once already. Open mouthed we fail from morning through till night. Pleasure pleases the weak. Themselves a virus, they collect signatures for birthrights. Such evil. Such common visions they strive towards. Rubbing shoulders with the damned, a fate worse than birth with a lifetime of looking back. Let them burn- let the entire world fucking burn.