Be conscious of all the space you take

As you carve your name into the earth

Force your face into an abstract smile

To be recalled in flaccid photographs

Wash all of your spiders down the drain

Holes to designate where pleasure goes

Because every holiday is just

One more sorry trip around the sun

And you drink from the palm

Of your god, as its dog

Constantly in attempt to satisfy

Maybe you will win a reward

Maybe they'll make a film about your life

Starring somebody else you'vе never met

Oncе you've died

And maybe they will win an award

Everything is one more

Postcard of a sunset

Everything