Colorless Flowers

for even against fading sanity we are willing to adorn ourselves with polished veneers the troubled smiles of a comatose existence swimming upstream against currents of despair fleetingly clutching the soggy riverbanks of reason delirious with laughter as we lay, exhausted among cadaverous flowers growing in the garden of self-contempt shivering beneath light-devouring shadows lurking, impeding the sun as we ask ourselves: what’s the point?