he feels like he just went ten rounds with a gorilla on meth

beaten black and blue on every inch of his body

lacerated and pummeled by the winds of fate and that foolhardy bastard destiny

so he lays there

trying to compose himself

get his bearings which seem to have been flung around the room haphazardly

if he could figure out which god or goddess he pissed off he would try and atone

try

most likely he would spit in their divine face and ask if that’s all they’ve got

he is a fool

lost in the maze of his mind

watercolors and abstract visions of what was

what wasn’t

and what should have been

he could have made something of himself

he had potential

but he pissed that away like everything else he ever got his grubby little mits on in life

if he had the chance he fucked it all up just to watch the world burn around him

it’s his thing

his agenda

it starts off unintentional

but as it burns out of control he kicks his feet up and hums an aria

while everyone around him rushes with buckets of water to contain the mess

he pisses gasoline onto the flames and wonders where his eyebrows went

you’d think he’d have learned by now

but he never learns

or he willfully chooses ignorance

hard to tell honestly

hard for him to speak honestly

so he coats it all in morose ill fitting hand me downs and parades it around as the archduke ferdinand

coaxing assassins out of the brush in hopes of starting another world war

dancing like a convulsing stripper to music only he can hear played too loudly for a funeral

shooting glitter into the eyes of onlookers and claiming he can read their souls

it’s like braile

take off your shirt and pants and let him demonstrate

it only hurts if you want it too

it’ll cost you extra though