The days go by in waves of stimulation; in a clockwork mechanism that ticks the moments by-that tocks the days away, while I stand idly in the corner. I'm watching with dissent and profound detachment as the ones I've grown up with live their lives according to a biological plan; in a culture of blind acceptance and disillusionment.

Make your babies! Sing your songs! It's all so pointless in the end no matter which way you preach it.

Tell your tales! Boast of your superiority! It's all a rumble of fabricated lies.

Life is so vapid, in essence. I'm ready to go, to cease in existence and to float off into the void, but I stay because I find too much pleasure pulling thread from its seams, with malicious intent to throw something certain askew, with a pluck or a pinch of my fingers. Laughing all the while.

It is late. And dawn will momentarily break, but I want to shout--wait! For just one day. Let the darkness lull ever constant with the living world. Oh, what chaos would then ensue? How many hearts would stop from fright? How many screams would pierce the night? How many bodies would run and fall out of sight? I ask you Sun, please remain in your slumber, if that is what you're doing, for one day, and grace me the chance to watch the world crumble, while I kneel on bruised knees and broken glass.