Salvage.

[rewiiired]

So you find yourself stranded
at this intersection, beneath
this ominous, indigo-blue streetlight,
the street sign reading Midwich
casting a shadow across the sign for Innsmouth,
watching the storm approach,
hands tied, back against an invisible wall.

Just smile
as the knife's against your neck.
Try to laugh
with the gun against your head.

You're living on a time bomb,
subsisting in a world of cards.
Too many deaf to the ticking,
blind to this structure's fragility.

Are you friend or enemy?
It may pay to hide from your own identity.
Maybe we cannot choose what we are,
but there's time to rewire the who.

Meditate,
medicate,
investigate,
activate the fire within
before the flood washes this away again.

Just smile
as the knife's against your neck,
dancing with the jugular.

Try to laugh
with the gun against your head,
barrel tenderly kissing the trembling temple,

for its all about survival now.
It's about salvaging what we can.

 

[panic in paradise]

i decided i should laugh with a gun to my head once.

he never did, nor will he ever have this kind of hope.

your fire can put out an-others flame, with the air of your own caution.