for the sake of nothing i'm back.

isn't it fascinating? we all thrive for the inexplainable. we long for the inevitable. hell, the remarkable lies naked in noises flossing between the truth. so what the fuck are we here for anyway? before you know it we all resume as insufficient credit: good for 30 days, good to be purchased within the premise, good for nothing because God knows you won't want us next season. we're like shoes. the expensive are unattainable, the ones on sale are recyclable, the ones not in stock are unforgettable. 


i want to be good credit.
let me remain in your wallet, 
paper-thin and permissible. 
and when you spend me, 
may you miss me when i'm gone. naked. disheveled in tin.