That delicious feeling of wanting to erase yourself.
Then trembling fingertips came away with tunes saying “everything will get better~”
“Went on… Went on… Kill all dreams as nothing remains~”
Blessed by visions of melting rainbow. Of dancing swans and singing toads. We are nothing but spectacles. We are nothing but broken iris.
As you are.
Nothing but traumatic wasted-kindness.