the final last resort.

All the songs are lying. All the lovers are delusional. All anything ever was was mandatory.

And all the widows have lost their eyes: and all the widowers their seeming minds.

All the children are being lied to: and all the parents are faux.

All the brotherhoods will crumble: and all the sisters will fall.

All the religious are backtracking: and hope is fodder for founding fools.

And all the would-be dreamers are paranoid schizophrenics of the highest degree: and stars were never made for wishes:

nor the moon for wist: nor time for mortal comprehendion: ignorant fools that we blatantly are.

And perhaps the alcoholics and the prostitutes and the base poor are better off than this seeming of the minds.

And anger will become the soul same as regret will become the heart: and all this will not change.

There never was anything so good such as this: only what we wanted it to be: what we needed.

There was never anything such as love.