Pit Pit Pitstop
Chug chug chugstop
Rock rock bottom
Tick tock, tick tock
Life goes on
like a series of sounds and smells and fears
And an overwhelming desire
that no call can appease.
Like flickering flames
that barely lick an inch of the universe in you until you become
just a massive being of too much that boils down to nothing at all.
I hate that word.
Everything has a reason but not really because bad stuff comes out of nowhere so often.
So does good stuff.
And so cynically speaking, we’re a joke.
Optimistically, we’re fucked so just smile.
And write words on paper that fade as quick as memory.