(013) patterned waves of futility

we will bask under that fake sunlight while taking drinks from our glasses of vodka in hopes that we will forget what all was said. we don't want to remember what's been lost so we relish in the idea of breathing in toxic fumes for our own enjoyment.

the sky is fleeting in the wake of all who can manage its patterned waves of futility which brush only on those with the deepest sets of pupils. blank states of unforeseen panic are commonplace for absolute mental exhaustion.

yet, in the plentiful fields of doubt is where we will yield our greatest potential all while sitting quietly. let the old world vultures scavenge over the remains of your false-hooded existence.

we are the only ones who can still see in color.