the vagaries of hope

What sits there? horror of honesty upon an ordinary, universally enjoyed structure. I’ve tested the topography, touched out the promise of a skull, grinning all the time beneath me.
I would have rescued you, had you been worthwhile. Myself. But you can fuck off.
Voices are outside my window. Voices…
Time for a break, fondle the witness, peel eyes across surface of TV, a blank gaping face filled, fed liquid substitutes, soporific window views, ambrosia with your bed sores, twilight hurries along. See, look out at the night, oh pretentious shit and blackness fills the eyebulbs, turning in hollows, and miming.
A fly annoys the 60-watt, rattling wings then resting rattling wings.
Green sea blows outside, voices struggle to keep heads above a literary suicide. Gaze now floats upon a vision of madness, caresses the walls, cracks and flaws, fingering each for a way out.
I’ve found whilst searching, myself lurching back to it’s habitat, and to murder the vagaries of hope.