these are the ashes of our humanity; each person responsible for the genocide of romance. fake personifications alter the most horrible facilities into better and more functional robots of love. this is the life we lead day after day... smoking our cigarettes and basking in the glamour of the nightlife, wishing hoping to become so beautiful the sun will hide itself. we are not unique. we are the products of generations of human misunderstanding. we are not original. we follow in each others footsteps until our paths become so twisted we reach inside one another and pull out a blackened heart, dead from all those years alone. we do not know what love is. we will never know. it does not exist.

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