Pentassam Constellation

your hope collapsed like a burning orphanage under the 
weight of their expectations it must seem routine for 
you now snowing in their spit languishing in their 
refuse a human/virus a victim of disease called 
circumstance their real faces are the faces of disgust 
the only kind you see from down here here there is no 
healing only the slowing of decay i've heard they 
still smile in their world perhaps you will go there 
someday and destroy their happiness