Not much to do and nowhere to go
piranhas swimming with skeleton fishes
no one to go with and everything is no
gleeing sharks offering big jellyfish wishes.
The golden silence of a life lived lonesome
contemplating the hopelessness of existence
people on the outside of the fishtank succumb
unable to experience the joys of new resistance.
Feeding with words anyone can now see-hear alone
spacetime passes through mainstream consciousness
the pathway to our hell is paved with grey lies on loan
self-imposed reluctance makes it worthwhile to undress.