Dissimilitude

Obscure thoughts
And manic visuals
The king of deception’s
Repulsive ritual…

~*~

I am unable to mend myself anymore

Instead closer to discomfort, adoring the

.

Minor slip-ups that further slip me away

Into a state of feeling infinite nothing

.

Because my ribs are starting to close in

And propane seeps into the bones of the aether

.

I find myself struggling to reach out beyond

False epiphanies and this cultist chase

.

Just to seek out disproportionate happiness

For what else is there left to trip on?

~*~

A throne of dissimulation
And disfigurement
King of deception, hell sent
A thirst for corruption…

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