All my selfpointed rage towards weakness that surrenders to violence. Fire against fire. I'm so sick of hearing the same words again and again. Continuously unaffected we. Substitute for what she can't give him, his ideals built and made. Pride that wont be rejected. 

We are dreams build on sand. build on sand.

We are nightmares. undisturbed by conscience. When this image cracks it leaves a million empty lies in us.

We live by the image and serve the ideals. Does an unshaved leg make a woman disgusting? If so, Why? We die by the image.