It tastes like bones in the lovely moments when i'm never home in life and hate and extensions of war in our beloved's homes because we're never remote but always alone surounded in our fabrications in our inferioration and we obliterate all that stands in our way we have no respect and i feel this is all that's left off the licked-off spoon and in my structured life I feel doomed with luminosity like the moon but it shadders my bones the things that never held me up and it's so horrifying i'm just shut to the world how hurtful and insincere your problems are so much less than what I want to hear...