because i would rather be a supernova.
but not be a ragged tombstone, but not be a fairy queen crucified upon her own smirks of doom. because this earth we stand on is reverberating with death in life. every step you take is a blasphemy. and because of that i would rather hold death's sunlight in my hand and say upon you, go be a shooting star, go be a suicide. erupt.
i see the managers and we need them like we need garbagemen. and if you thought the last war was fought welcome to the 21st century, a million dead foreigners won't convince you then nothing will, fling your arms wide and eat a nuclear halo, i've seen them all and their toxic peace, fuck them, give me cutters, give me drug addicts, give me animals, give me satan like a shadow on the cross. you have this many days, this many, this many, so many burned afternoons, then you slave will die too, yes you, like a slaugherhouse dancing on a dime, like a cow writing her last sonnet on the cell wall, like a mouthful of bullets, ask me why i don't want to save the world again, ask me why they put knives against girls necks, just for kicks, ask me why, ask me why i prefer drowning to standing up there and lying for the future, ask a million housewives why being a whore is better, why god is such a pervert, why forests hopefully will eat us all oneday,
and christ smokes crack under the bridge, but he was never together to begin with. but the devout think he will be elected president. one day.