Commiserating the Celebration

Our pleasures be joyless doleful experiences. We seek not life’s beauty but
cherish its funeral
Aspects. We crave the (mis)fortunes rich in their non entity rejoice in
celebrating less severe
Tragedies. In the toil to exist we excrete individuality whilst captivating
internment in cloned identity
Real is The oration of stone possessed emotion. I yearn isolation from this
realisation. Reject the
Elation of blissful tranquility, obsessions they lay with the bleak and
sinister. A wealth of treasures be
Ours to take possession yet we break bones and gruel to savour simulations.
Disciples of the
Drabness devotees of worthlessness consent to endure the anguish and form only
ashes. Real is the
Oration
. Oh yeagh let me go. Let me wander through buildings immense in their
desolation. At
Peace from your catastrophe here with gargoyles as my friends