Many thanks to my critter Vishardsh! Go read his Tale about a dying god in a fly tip in Brentford. You will read this. This is non-negotiable. If you've read any of my other work you'll know that tragic slice-of-life is crack to me, so fuck knows I loved reading his piece.
This was a piece I wrote up in about an hour to sort of outlet for my tendency to use flowery language. For an outlet piece, this worked surprisingly well! I hope you enjoyed it.
Pulling back, I tried to find the point of wasting precious time,
I sip and toast to normalcy, a fool's way into jealousy;
I mock and imitate goodbyes when I know that I can't deny,
That I'll be here forever-while.