The Brittle Dandelion's Last Vision Before Getting Trampled Underfoot

Fuck you all! I'm taking my cannonball and going to the deep end. You'll never stop me. The crows encircle a new moon and pieces of me are in each of their stomachs. Reality cracks to reveal two entities laughed out of Heaven, scarred and burned with stunted thoughts. Lord have mercy on the corner man playing marbles with his own bone marrow and the child who embraces nihilism. The bottle is pointless. The heart is pointless. The cross is pointless. Mr. Denton has broken his glasses on the front line of a personal apocalypse. I can't read the words on these walls with my cerebellum hogging the spotlight. Persistence is futile.