[today's song blurb is also a freestyle sonnet, because I am a dirtgod who does such things]
Traveling the vacated wasteland of what's known,
innate desire to roam denied by days' trifles,
but bound to explode with gone mode, love chances blown
and bridges burned - back tracking consciousness stifles
disappearance; dystopia ended up far
more mundane than expected, wasting most my time
distracted by digital poisons, psychic scar
tissue thickens into metaphysical slime
and sludge; fog so thick you think you're woke while broken,
clear-headed while ripped by septic tide lacking sand
beneath barefeet; end times ancient texts had spoken
of remain horizon only; still though, well-planned
peeps stockpile milk crates, machetes, pallets, and tarps;
soundtracks for disappearance like angelic harps.
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