This isn't my usual soap box charm. I'm not delighted by your inability to preform under the act. We used to be connected by the art. I've never really thought of you as a friend but that doesn't change the fact that you fucked up in the end. I'm cancelling your cards. At least there exists a story I can bend, but I won't. You're a thought that can't be checked... it erases itself. I'd love to call you out but I've already placed those memories upon the shelf. Don't get me started on your madness and sin, you're a poor player of fates deadly art. Misery isn't tragic when you've gone and broken yourself apart. Time is penetrating, even for us Gods. Fiends who whisper across a lithium pond.
Don't forget about Churchill; I've never want to see Neverland from the sky but I've always wanted to kiss Mars. Some men are built like engines and others like clones. We are actually one nation, bitter but whole. Will you live for yourself? The apocolypse is still coming but it wont arrive tomorrow. Is this truly one planet? Are we all connected? Can hope be a road? Glory to the Houses of Sunday and all the power they hold.

I used to believe in you. Black eyes never credit bleeding hearts. Wounded minds can shadow even the loudest of stars.

Don't stare to deeply into the obsidian sun. Don't fly to burn yourself down.