immersed in layers of dark, we all suffer from dripping hearts
umber blood likened to emotion—or the lack of it. colors fade with dimming light
even scarlet turns pallid.
we take pride in the individually decorated communal aegis
praising those who force smiles and compartmentalize.
don’t show your face. don’t make a sound. don’t use your
voice.
are you searching for something,
anything resembling natural connection and honest affection?
i don’t know.
in the end, our halls are muddled and the ceilings leak, reminding us
perfect won’t ever subsist
an aegis will shatter
our bodies are fragile.