You are the orange dust between my fingernails. 
The yellowed teeth of my decay, 
the fall of a legacy and lasting dynasty. 

The red mist in my stare; on my breath.
The swirling, toxic paranoia spinning webs and shouting names,
and the cutting, bleeding mechanism that I could never shake.
And will never break, though many times it will break me.


Yes, you my friend:
the fake handshakes, the daggers in my back that will always be there, to pull out and plunge into my opposites and insecurites alike.
An endless drone. 
Immortal in its misery.

Immortal in its acquisition and hardened heartstrings,
Biting on its dollar bills and gems hereafter:
long after the tongue can still spray their value from the organs in my skull
to coerce the denizens of this treacherous rock,
can be told apart from the filth in my veins.

You are writhing, endless hollowness
on top and beneath every partner, every fine love
that I can ever dream to abuse; destroy.
I drink them all in, like earthwaters.
Stillwaters.
Ever thirstier.

And as my skin tightens, stories carved fast
Into a leather visage.
Sockets and pockets running deep,
and all of those pretenders I call friends running short.
The Eyes will stay in me. I will not sell them, nor murder them.
As the years pass, they will prove to never betray me; never forget.
The human vice greatest of all
is itself, in condition. Yes, you-- a combination of me and the world.

The condition of humanity is sin, and in sin
I will meet god as a defective and faulty creation.
And meet You at Hell, where we stand today.