As the externalized wisdoms having escaped from our voices come around to
be spoken to us… and as the product of our outsourcing of the work of the soul
is sold to our hollow sentience in the happiness of a soulless existence… and
then when a look in the eye comes dancing along…
Look back and hold thy air so that thee might find something inside that
not a soul can touch… thy nothing… a soulless revelry needs not the confounding
of logic and emotion in the steps of an enlightened being… needs not the wake
of a full moon’s musing…
And instead it is the real shallow of culture that convenes at the greatest
depths… when the lack of reasonable existence demands no more the choice of
happiness but is rather its machine in churning repetition…
We clutch so tight so that we might sense the nothing as another and not
allow our joy to kindly touch it and evaporate…
Where was I going?
What times are becoming?
To possess an affinity for etiquette
An intrude upon reason
Gag the intellect
The witchery was a stout
Silver lined indulgence
March winds gesture a death rattle
Full moon disgust
A desperate fellatio
It evaded all reality
It was a pain that became the world
And it was nothing
The sun comes and steals my pain away
I almost felt real for a
momentJason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com
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