Jade Bile

The hazy shade is the deepest hue that confronts me, while the words remain unintelligible.  Every pool of water is slick with poison, another arsenic gumdrop teetering off of the never-ending ledge.  I can no longer smell the sunshine, only the deep decay of a thousand still-born aspirations.  The more houses fall, the more severe their concrete children rise.

Once upon a grey moon, all of this seemed entirely too convenient.  All of my wishes granted in the most horrible manner possible.  "Be careful," I was always told.  The bright curtains burned, sheer blue-green flames of artificial nightmare.  I got it, more what I asked than what we all deserved.  To deny the entirety of existence, to refute the everything of everyone and to do so without impaling one's own self, is to invite a lifetime of agony.  While bones may not break and organs may not fail, the absolute absence of commonality is beyond all conception of despair.

Take a memo: "Fuck off.  I don't care."

Dictated, but not read.