Razorblade Confetti

I close my eyes and fall into the flood.

It strikes my mind like a cascading fury of fire,

As we watch the bodies sink further into the mud.

The New Year now has come,

And I can’t even tell you how I ended the last one.

We all come down.

And best believe when we do, there will be a lot of cleaning up.

Calypso collage of entangled torsos.

All doomed to meet their fate at the bottom of a bottle.

Now whether this refers to potency,

Or a metaphor of a controlled and captivated world,

You tell me.

Predictions from the media of what is to come.

Did you really think that we were all that dumb?

Raging flames eating cities whole,

Death of innocent being to achieve a supposed goal,

We must break free.

Or by God this flood will consume me.

All of our heroes were found to be no more,

Then power stricken hounds salivating from the lips.

I don’t have the self will to try my hand at suicide.

So my solution is to make this world my corpse bride.

Oh there will be casualties.

Oh you can bet there will be casualties.

Casualties as far as the eye can see.

There is only one real difference between martyrdom and sainthood.

And that difference is me.

Razorblade confetti rains down upon us all.