You used to gift my heart with butterflies
But a harsh Northern wind swept in,
Froze them all to death.
Corridors of my life
Solid with ice, snow, numb
Unnatural Luciferian euphoria.
Who gives a shit?
All talk and no action.
Useless, wasted product lives.
Hollow relationships and half-grams of cocaine hope
Are all that is left to rely on.
–Jack Blare, Silver Chain (2016)