The World Will Never Change

Every etching move, is a joke-less hope, a fraying try, and each time you’ll sacrifice eyelids for others, cuticles, toenails and skin, wanting lives that are farm animal fat, are plated, hydrated and sucked. But the world will never change. It’s a hopeless joke and you’ll rot soon in every dream, each premonition comes, a boneless bucket of leftovers.

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