forlorn cosmetics of turbulence are

are objects associated with identity. 

come with me to Tyrant-Market where

tyrannies are sold, and with every sale

a foetus dies cold. 

a bold, bold ode to a persuasive soul. 

objects and identity—a physical coalition of the hostile. 

but it ought to be metaphysical. 

those who sold the world will have a hard time. 

after all, it's a coalition of the metaphysical. 

identities are spiritual and its objects do not exist.

no/less forlorn cosmetics. they're ingrained. 

in the mind. 

a foetus dies, nonetheless. the hostile remain hostile. 

Tyrant-Market will be empty. 

a cold, cold ode to a persuasive soul.