i am lost in this hellish mindscape of conflicting demotion, inflicted commotion, reflected exclusion, dejected reclusion. i am none of the things i need. all of the things despicable. locked in step with the headsman. watching the light glint off the wicked curve of the blade as the crowd throws rotten effigies of the man buried in the shards of glass from thousands of mirrors falling from the skies. in disguise. a demon with the flesh of rancid regret. bipolar decadence on the bitter edge of solar comeuppance. regurgitated reticence and an inablitiy to escape the doorless cage. stitched together into a frankensteinian shamble. a driftwood daydream on the river styx.