Asthetic

Prosthetic hopes built on broken foundations,
In a place where the night breathes and the moon cries,
An abstract vision of living hell

Neglected streets roamed by corpses with smiles,
But it doesn’t matter, because they are thin, and thin is beautiful.
It is almost like the lines are marred here, blurred by want.

Death lingers here more than it does on the ravaged streets of a warzone,
Nobody blinks when an empty shell stops moving,
Nobody blinks because they know they are going to die, and they want to die thin

There is no salvation for the discontented,
It is not a sin to want to be beautiful,
They simply wear crooked halos and chipped wings.

An injection in to the spine of the city,
A call for the beautiful ones,
There is no respite when you kill yourself.

Dying hearts beating in sync,
Switching of the lights so you can’t see your face,
Suddenly seems like they’re light as air.

Night rolls down, shutting down the city,
You’re trapped here now, you ain’t so beautiful anymore.

You’ll love heaven, there are no calories there.