Parfait Natalism

♾ There is no backdrop, no context. A setting full of fanciful depressions and judicious despairs. They cloud any ability to make out forest from tree. You try memetic mantras, dogmatically repeating lines from movies and television, citing sources only when convenient. The visual and psychic miasma persists. You brazenly rewrite history whilst calling things fake and gay, loving into the teeth of foreseeable heartbreak, eco-vaping death through the mouth of a cobra. Happily burned-out. The sun sets over the corner of a fake pier. Just overhead, a biplane pulling a personal ad reads, “To do anything sincerely, is to ultimately break your heart.”