Vs

General malaise

dystopian texture

pleasuring the haze

gazed @ the abyss

coined the phrase

days.. minutes..

hours.. seconds..

an oppressing premise

boundless by limits

on the fringes

blank spaces

between the edges

tallying the inches

with no images or digits

deliverance of the head

the death of id’s presence

the collage of innocence

and instincts retribution

a savage marriage of force

and inherent contents

constantly colluding

a brooding montage

unsubmissive

repetitive and cyclic

nihilistic feeling fully conscious

dueling the ever ending psyche

of reality and what might be