Pentassam Constellation

Your hope collapsed like a burning orphanage under the

weight of their expectations it must seem routine for

you now snowing in their spit languishing in their

refuse a human/virus a victim of disease called

circumstance their real faces are the faces of disgust

the only kind you see from down here here there is no

healing only the slowing of decay i've heard they

still smile in their world perhaps you will go there

someday and destroy their happiness