they sat on the stoop, a new generation put to the test, mass consumption of crystal pepsi meth, they all seem to suspect the end of the game but they play it anyway with abandoned hope

see the rules are fluid, there is no way to win, just get inebriated to the point where you don’t care anymore, numb the pain, drain the frustration, let the slow burn take over all, pulling you on

sugar highs and mellow lows, it’s all the same as the fetishists and witches dance not de beneath the pregnant moon, chanting words of worship in tongues not meant for humans to hum

we are all convinced this life is rigged, no matter the fork you choose the icy spectre of death awaits, good or evil, young or old, the only thing that changes is your tolerance to the good stuff

run faster, harder, until tendons snap, until bones deteriorate, eyes grow weak and senses fade, trade the green for the white for the small pills they push to make things stand and regulate all else