Click and Repeat.

Being well read seems to be only a burden, but lacking said qualification is acceptable?
Points of interest handpicked by fools, who only can acquire but a meager lot in this life.
Looking away in terror and humility, who really looks like the fool...when staring through spray-painted lenses?
My gaze fixed upon the shadows they produce, as I am living in shame of our similarities.

A hundred years, only to die but still continuing to be a good source of nourishment for parasites.
The majority of those years, being allotted to crying about useless bullshit.
Clear and red, my penitence to my fore-comers, as I understand their existential plight.
Finding this grief to be insurmountable, the result of the negativity created by the living dead

C-L-I-C-K...only with the trigger left to pull, vaguely thinking about the consequences.
Lacking the required logic and time to think. You always take the time when you're sober...
Unrestrained fury, being clouded with distorted images, caused from anger and overwhelming insomnia.
Blood from their severed heads and slaughtered carcasses, you easily wash the stains away with time to repeat indefinitely.