Chaos Arpeggiating

Mountain city yellows they’re not on the grounds there in a /pole/
This loneliness is so distracting I’m barely missing you at all
Will I survive the Easter in this fluffy womb of noxious isolation?
No, I can feel the savers now not illusionary caskets
Now your charming little virus is getting all your attention
As I drag my cherub to the window to absorb so solar lashing
It’s your saint’s name day tomorrow
Last year’s /paper was/ your not the living anymore
Why should I be scorned like some catalyst for famines
When it’s me who’s been exiled in apartments?
Why must I always be chaos arpeggiating?
Mountain city yellows I see them lichen through the floor
The Minotaur of self-abuse can’t pick himself up anymore
Your last violent freak-out was a eulogy for us
I was truly shocked that you still cared enough to throw psychotic fits
Now you’re sparring with the no one, devoid the vacuum of conscious
As I mine the rest of my solemnity, the snarl in mock laughter
I have this sense that you’re wanting me to chase you
But what’s the point we can’t be together without starting a row
Why should I be scorned like some catalyst for famines
When it’s me who’s been exiled in apartments?
Why must I always be chaos arpeggiating?
Why should I be scorned like some catalyst for famines
When it’s me who’s been exiled in apartments?
Why must I always be chaos arpeggiating chaos arpeggiating?