altar of inconsequence

We propped the sagging flesh of lifeless influencers in a ketamine hole of transactions The banality, our cross to bear The weight of listless observations our anchor in maintaining stagnation Massaging eyes into complacency and flesh into dull climax We built our castle of inconsequence because we are told to do so Drinking platitudes as suppositories from quivering lips of self-proclaimed saviors We were bullish on quitting and alcoholism Our stomachs ached for the dandruff shit dusting dislodged from the bottom of a luxury boot Our compliance in the orgy of senseless daily crucifixions was our purpose Hoping someday we’d stroke the ego of the deceased long enough for one last indifferent thrust Hoping to retrieve one last pointless acknowledgement to sooth our failing organs.