An Insipid Poem For An Exotic Wasteland

I've shook hands with demons, devils, some dancing with deconstruction/
Disruptive displays of death and delineate decombustion/
Discussions are deeply darkened by desolate decompression/
Decisions are darkly deepened, depending on deep depression....

So feed me faulty fragments, my phantoms are fully focused/
On fountains of frozen philters and feelings of free psychosis/
Be better off branded bitter, but beautiful beats the broken/
By being a beaten beast, I'm a breath for the breed, unspoken....

Charisma closely captured in coffers of callous coping/
Hallucinogenic heretics hearken in Hell for hoping/
So deal with zealous zealots and zero in on them zephyrs/
And plea to the problematic for peace from the poison peppers....

If wrongly resurrected, run rampant in raw revival/
And speak in a soft sonata - the seance will make you smile/
So wither with wilted Winters, and walk in a world of wonder/
We run to the wasteful ways in a war that we must encumber....

Just take your time with tangible touches and test the limits/
And tear your heart right out of your chest for the one who listens/
Annihilistic apertures act on us as aphasia/
And arbitrary actions are actually entertaining....

Exotic enterprises get equally egotistic/
So examine every edge of an equally sick existence/
Gotta manage any measure of medical mathematics/
'Cause a miracles too far for too many to make it happen....

If suicide is silent then silence is something sordid/
But surprisingly enough, it's a second-to-last resort/
In a solitary solace, a septum of something sullen/
Cybernetics in the nexus, in seconds I feel it pulling....

Pick a piece of Purple Passion and place it upon a proxy/
Put my heart into a pile and patch it up with epoxy/
Reaching for the reasons I recently ran for something/
I'm dead inside and destined for destruction....