I’m writing this letter to you from a place others call my home
surrounded by my old dusty tomes and souvenirs from alien places
a freeform sadness usually overtakes, rendering the glow
of the evening into a dirty hue of red that just twists people’s faces:
there is nothing new under the sun, and nothing new to the fun
we had with the old things, with those sad pathetic kinks
that should already have been ironed out or rocketed to the moon
since the moon can still use some craters to go with the pinks that shade
that nightly swiss cheese during those extreme wine evenings
when the Blood Moon festival comes to town to have a jolly slaughter
with those people that live out vibes that are slightly depressing
who cry in pain during the red hours, drowning out all laughter
well, now I’ve done it: I’ve gone to a total nonsense place
where freedom of expression can make everything darker
this letter is something that cuts too deep, releasing my face
from the idea of personhood that acts as my personal marker;
the one I’ve grown attached to through pain and mythical hellfire
which I’ve cultivated with sanctified microdoses of ideals,
expectations and dreams which I’ve watered with the mire
called the ”holy trinity of alcohol, cigarettes and junk meals”
here is a thought, for a clarity of purpose, or some shit
often we expect things, not thinking about complications
and the current taking us elsewhere and we get used to it
and when the crap hits the Frappé at first it’s just disruptions
until they’re no longer setbacks but murder attempts on your person
and now the assassin is on your back and you go into exile
like any sane person would since who wants to lose their ideal soul?
it just cannot be a thing that ”You” would ever go out of style
finally, you end up in the place, which you wouldn’t really call a home
surrounded by jaded despair and memories that are grayscale
with a directed sadness that has overtaken you to render the glow
of the evening into a dirty shade of blue that twists your face
writing a silly letter about giving up while not really going to do that