The Thing With Fangs

I Know These People.

I know these people

different faces

but echoes of predecessors, long dethroned

they play out worn tales that have lost their luster

silly heartbreak games so easily predictable

lies that steer lives and giggles that fuel hate

manipulations that benefit one and lust that brings fleeting pleasure

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I don't know these people

behind the masks they parade in

whether there is nothing behind them

but empty space that spans miles and miles of matter

or maybe a beating soul that hums with thoughts and stars and holes

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I don't know

they probably won't ever learn that these lies and manipulations

are diseases that infect and fester

are poisons that drip venom into the soul

that lust is anatomical but utterly blind

and heartbreak, simply put, pointless.