fuck pleasure.

everything is doomed.

What a wonderful life we’re living.

Everything is great until it isn’t.

A polished stage of borrowed suns

covers up our triumphs

yet we protect our eyes

we must hide our light

smile at mirrors that

lie back kindly, forcefully

medicating the abyss

with small victories.

We love

We strive

We accumulate proof

We prove

We dance

We manifest

yet every attachment

is a quiet contract with

future grief.

For fucks sake,

we already know the ending.

Pleasure? You mean the mere absence

of noticing we’re falling?

Oh yes, what a wonderful life we’re living.

Everything is doomed until it isn’t.