Observations

Where to begin?

I proactively choose to take my time
As each player approaches the parapet
I seed the pulpit to greater speakers

The object of my desire, the totality of existence
Each observer adds keener insight
I am myself, through you, without me

Its form the incorporeal fissure 
I construct the triptych
One laughing, another silent, the last screaming

The death of morals
The case introspective, myself on the stand
No judge, the jury hanging, I become the executioner
The crime a matter of consistency

Slipping into something less comfortable
I face those who came before me
Arms raised, ready to join the pile

To indict myself through you
I look down the gallows
And know my place

The death of labor

I sit at the top of the ladder
Passing its contents down I tell you
What to do

I sit down the ladder
Passing its contents down
I tell you what to do

I sit down the ladder
Passing its contents down
I tell you what to do

I sit down the ladder
Passing its contents down
I tell you what to do

I sit at the bottom of the ladder
Spilling its contents on the floor
I find something new to do

The death of the aesthetic

I am a painting, it drapes the walls
Its construction, my guts
Try to understand them

This song, a cruel reminder of everything I hate
Its rhythm, the death of my innocents
With each beat I bury my cruelty

This dance, every degree of my persons from every angle
Me, Myself, and I
Waltzing together