In Tyler we trust,
Live as we must,
Chant random syllables when the tic of the eternal clock gets closer:
“He has a name now”, now that he is dead.
Forever we regret the lack of empathy, or worse-
The birth of a monster.
So beautiful- he glistens in the light of nuclear explosions of our rage.
Is it rage?
Or is it lust?
“In Tyler we trust!”- you told me when the blood was in the air and
My fist was getting closer to your lukewarm temple with supersonic speed.
Are we in love with the idea that fate- however gross and sickening-
Is perhaps superfluous.
And I don’t care.
I dare you to make a move,
Give me a scar on the back of my neck-
The spot from which the world has already drained my freedom.