Burned-Down Ruins on the Sidewalkburlesque theaters in street corners managed by drug-rings; in every bar someone’s getting fucked, always. we desired a change, delivered a wasteland new yet so damn familiar. wishes upon long dead stars; vast emptiness everywhere, pitch-black, we tried to run; once. we failed. nothing we could do but wait for the longed for salvation from below. could we have run? the eternal question, the one answer causing sleepless nights; the train plunges forth, unstoppable force. we hid, we waited; we failed. the merry-go-round begins one out of its infinite turns, we remain impatient passengers, children in a world of terrors; the night grows old, the stars die, there’s still something under the rainbow of a faraway shore on a faraway island; perhaps, it even glows on a faraway planet. stranded, and we smoked our junk. Dead is the Hope |