Dead Mass

Once you've woken from your slumber

Of hopes and dreams, killed and buried

Of measured breaths bruised in insecurities

Of a brain rattled and a spine shattered

Of eyeballs gouged out in a morning coffee

Put on your expensive linen and pretentious shadow

And walk out that door like you are one of the world

Filthy scumbags raised and rotten in money-spitting manholes

Inglorious bastards swimming in stinking commodes they call governments

Pretend like you're one of them, one more of them

Keep your eyes wide shut, your lips outlined for a faked smile

And bend over for a bunch of society-approved somebodies  

Watch them take turns tearing your asshole apart until it bleeds money

Die rich, drowned in your blood and shit-stained money

But then, if one day all of it seems a bit unsettling

The scabs of success falling off, showing the shallow, scarred flesh within

The shackles of a clock-timed independence smelling of rust and tears

The illusion of a good life, shattered, scattered and spread like the last pieces of a broken mirror

The aftertaste of tanned leather and cheap shoe polish, lurking till your epiglottis

But then, if one day if selling your spine finally begins to hurt like you were being skinned alive

Don't sit down and write some shitty poetry on a paper as crumpled as your being

The wise ones who said the pen is mightier than the sword, were hopeful dumbfucks

When have words ever won world wars or healed bullet wounds

Take that goddamn pen, clench it with every last bit of anger and despair

Stab it right into the fucking throat of this shithole called society

And you'll see, the pen is mightier than the sword, just not the way you'd liked to believe

But then, what is the need for beliefs and faiths and religions for an agnostic

But question them all and watch them crumble and disintegrate into a dead mass