we’re all riots when
you think about it
unmasked
pyromaniacs
with that mugshot
aesthetic
there’s years between
our rise
and fall but
we’re both rotten
to the core
the same speed
as comatose
a slow drip of morphine
meant to stave off the
void
i only know one number
by heart and when you
dial it
it’s the voice of
a dead girl
but sometimes you
pick up instead
and you’re probably
dangerous at
the highest
level
but you’re a saint
compared
to sleeping
devils
and tomorrow
we’ll be canonized
or
arrested for pointing
toy guns at
real monsters
and then firing
and then lying
Poisoners 