Maleficent Condescension: Hollow Promises Compensation I

Little is precious,

     To a G-d whose lost our trust, Creating a never content rage; We shout out into the cloudless sky inherited blind marching drug lines until our lungs go blind, Silent we wither to our knees, Crumbling as sand into water's deranged oceanic wars apparent only in the deepest abyss at sea, Where she waits for us, The defiled recycled loveless children of karma's black production never surprised to see ourselves living to die again amongst this irresponsible citizenry of sheep entitled humanity: Road to heaven or unto hell, Whatever negligent infinity outcome, This world's entirely hopeless and so numb nearly faded fists half raised hope wrong... How we deal with... Nearly everything!

In lieu of our participation in,
The impossible momentum swing!