Leisurely, the abyss crawls up
through showers of squandered potential,
slips into something more comfortable.
I’d rather be doing it in the dark.
Try being more relatable, mon cher,
and I might try you on for size.
Funny how time flies
when you’re eating your fingers.
Whose silhouette, shade or wraith
lingers here before me?
As if the situation could be
any more tantalizing…
-r. miller
*Insert Propaganda Here* 