Horror

Contracting the throat
Clogging passageways
Constricting circulation
Clasping bittersweet dark to the yearning brain

Closing the path
Curbing the gifted
Carousing in the worthless
Creating false nothings of degradation

A consternation of emotions
Contradictory thoughts without purpose
Clicking together with no rhyme or rhythm
Clunking their way through the masses

A claustrophobic entropy of crowds
Crowds of the mindless
Crowds of apathy
Crowds crowning vacuumed glory
Crowds crowing the gospel of the echo

Echo eternal
Exaltation found in nothing
Worse than nothing
The picture of a picture
The mirror in the mirror

A reflection of themselves
And in it
A small speck
Unrecognizable

A point lost in the dark
Contorted by their expectations
Twisted by their lies
Diminished by their dependence

Becoming so infinitesimally small as to become
Non existent
Unaware
A cog in a machine that was never there

A machine that never could be
So grotesque as to be impossible
So revolting as to be unimaginable
So false as to be true

For they will never give it up
The picture of a picture
The mirror in the mirror
The reverberating echo

This is fear
This is loathing
What I feel
Of the glorification of the commonplace
Of the fawning over the inept
Of the worship of the void