planting tulips in a black hole

i see the
genetic sickness
in the mirror of my actions
poor progeny

we
just can’t help
the depression
the addiction

cyclical insanity
a poverty perpetuated through a lack
of self awareness

you wouldn’t recognize happy
if it were blowing you

i am the product
of oblivion

we have given
birth
to
dysfunction
itself

agony is more plentiful than love
the earth is a grease trap

i make origami
weapons
for defense against
futile feudal lords

not a single fuck given