call it an art piece, call it a crestfalling late night, idc
call it that one day where you just feel like letting go of yourself.
when you know it's impossible to do, and if you succeed, you lose yourself permanently.
call it whatever, call it nothing.
call it a black hole, call it a kick in the urethra
call it whatever
but it's everywhere. it's real. It's a parasite made of people, by people and for people.
It breaks. It decays. It decays itself and decays us.
It decays the earth.
It decays society.
It decays the dead.
And yet you're thinking of what to call it.