Published On: Feb 17, 2011
Last updated on:: Feb 17, 2011
Views: 259
I stand atop this pinnacle of stone as all I know floats in a rising
tide around me, rising higher, once forgotten memories pushed far to the
bottom of my soul now raised like some monster shipwreck, bobbing in
the rising swells of my mind.
The distant glow of what the
world used to mean sputters like a dying flame in the winds of oblivion.
All you hold dear will crumble, shatter in a rain around you, a mess
of worn out party fiends, no momentum left now, you reap what you sow.
A
generation of mess-heads always eager for the next fix but oh so
reluctant to pay with anything but their souls, sold to the neon gods
for the highest bid, the promise of a better night and a darker
tomorrow.
The shattered dreams of a thousand drunken dancers
crunch underfoot, fuel to the fire waiting to spark and consume this
once bright hall. Now filled only with the lingering traces of
has-beens with last nights drinks on their breath, and tomorrows song in
their heads.
Too fast they move, too fast for mere mortals
these gods of last night, these saints of wasted chances, of forgotten
futures, selling tickets for the end of tomorrow, the show of your life.