Pretense aside 

I’m enlightened now

Kindly fuck off

You’re in my light

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Of Corn and Crows

The hurt would be crushing
I should thank god for this fat suit
everyday insulated
because what would I do without?

Strands of truth and sheaths of anger weather
for the most part

I do not fear the wind or the rain
but the shadowed clouds laying low
whipping frenzied feathers
of false promises and hate
of incincere smiles
of petty desires
Am I feeling myself or your vile shit
Are you eating me alive

I should thank god for this fat suit
buying time
against the inevitable

My Voice

At what point

In the experience that life comprises

Can one definitively state

I found my voice/I have no voice

And what meaning would that statement

Ultimately have on anything at all 

Oh fruitless questions 

How I loathe thee

Fuckitall 

I’ll just pick up a honey colored  apple

Strip away its skin

Slurp it’s juices as I rend flesh with fingernails and teeth 

Spitting out seeds onto concrete

Dismantling the thing

Making ugly what once was beautiful 

In search of core meaning that changes nothing 

But adds the idea of flavor

Because the flavor of truth wasn’t enough

My malleable and manipulative mind

Cannot see the mechanical absolute 

That supposedly exists

So for now

I’ll say

My voice seems best silent

Still

And my heart will fill the void