Week 12 championship: 1. Zombie (4-0) vs. 2. Split Eight (3-2) \\ Zombie wins 7-0

[Split]

IGNORING THE ONLY PHILOSOPHICAL PROBLEM:
A SATIRICAL COMPARISON BETWEEN SPLIT8 AND ZOMBIE IN RAMBLING FORMAT

it's more than just a death, you see...
a mess, for adoring friends to clean
or pour & spread the deed
in a coursing red that streams to floors and heads beneath
purgatory's mezzanine.
self-inflicted, yes.
but no ones ever born & screams intentionally.
you're alluding to choice. I'm eluding affects,
personal, and the pertinent otherwise.
your model for nothing is dead while mine's
an integration of vertical enterprise.
hear my pitch.

you're more than adept.
severed cords that've kept
the 4th in your head floored-
with intent. Cubicle-life.
Office Space. Undoing the room
with loose screws & some drive
because the view is so nice.
no purpose at all. reality's Swishers to gut.
gore on your desk, flicking the blunt
because the dissonance fun.
no meaning to life. just schemes
we can write.
"disproportionality of
disordered personality in
rivers pouring out me"
guess your center forms when
your core's coalescing towards
the flat, base truth. that makes two,
four and then divorce. dad *just* making death's appointment
at the high of noon, sharp,
by the nape of his neck.
Apple never hiding too far,
your noose tied to soon's bark.
avoiding the date of your death
because why would you not?
asking such questions brings
the silence you wrought



I'm weak and I'm trite.
there's meaning to life.
Irini's your life. she's fucking
your friend, Tom. there's cum in your bed.
gobs. she kisses you, and doesn't hesitate,
it sticks in you, a love that dessicates.
a bun in the oven, raw.
a love that is half as baked.
but the thought of a God gravitates
your suspicions to a solemn
detachment phase...
God being purpose. Your actions make sense...
sadness making trends of your masquerade for friends.
reissued emotions, bazillions in laminate
for familiar cavalcades of guests.
always vacillating, breaths between advocating clean
and habits claiming rent.
what's a few words, to twist or contort?
get lost in distractions lest your passion explores
the crevices, creaks of inner dark force.
Pewter. Vermillion. Cinnabar, Four.
that wordings poetic. nostalgia galore.
I'm learning my lesson!
now onto the next extension of life
til self-validation is spent to the dime.