Bother

We strive for everything but leave it all at the door when we leave. 
The scars, the scabs, the sugar dreams. 
Vanishing.
With our towering twisted metal towers of glass and broken bones. 
We reach the top and throw ourselves off.
The blood becomes sweet,
when the tears become bitter,
and all is lost to the screaming void.

Sweetness

Why does it even matter. 
Fleeting emotions and sensations. 
Temporary sugar statues. 
Washed and gone before sunrise.

Existential

I live in a hedonistic dreamscape. 
The only thing tying me down
 are the thorned vines of reality and expectation.
My mind has long been a victim of a clumsy glass maker.
Dropped and reformed over and over.
Being swept along like untidy dust. 
A vortex of haze and toxicity. 
Poisonous and acrid.
The vault has been breached ladies and gentlemen. 
The snakes and flies have all escaped.
WE ARE THE HOLLOW STAR CHILDREN OF THE COSMOS.
There is no fairytale or lovely longing love.
Chemicals and electric pulses of pleasure and pain writhe in our brains.
Its all nothing. 
Needed is a myth. 
Hollow children of the cosmos.
Existing for fleeting moments
sweet kisses and beautiful romps