Back before he bore the scars
of the sins of his fathers';
Who beat him senseless
with broken dreams
Of quietly sinking
into suburban indifference
By building judicious bridging,
And simplified site development plans,
With the promise of a quiet death alone in something you own when it's finally been
Enough never-ending guff, and guffaws and giggles and goofy grins
And just in case you need it,
Because Plan A looks a lot like a long shot man;
And Plan B's barely even a plan, more like an outline of scam, like the beginning and the end and not much in between, and I'll be ****** if it don't look all that hot like it's not all it's cracked up to be either
and so
Theres a back-up scam for the back-up plans

(somewhere private, calm, quiet and clean to start the painful process
of removing one's own pelt
For profit
and the best way to tan the skin)

~-~
<({[•]})>
~awake~
<({[...breathe in...]})>


I'm still here,

<({[•breathe out•]})>

still breathing out
without breathing in
Still standing up,
Still unbroken even if not unbent.
A testament to the sheer magnitude of mistakes one can make in the span of single long weekend.