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all we want is to be praised

Started by Sepia, August 09, 2022, 12:42:13 AM

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we imagine the narratives and we change them

let me die in this sun now as I'm finally being birthed, one throatscream at a time, one hovel filled with shit to set fire to the imagination and full burn out of our solar system out of our lives

turned sick and something else, choirs dream of their boys, dreams possess their choirs, charlatans sinking their teeth into us, singing our flesh singeing our flesh

we erase history so we are not forced to remember it, we erase history so we can build on its rubble, new ignorances

the memory sets in, purges light and dark and becomes nothing becomes all becomes us

so many deaths we've had, every day a death when our day turns into our night and we disappear from the waking world as we visit the real world easing us in as we get better at dying with the lesson wasted until one day it clicks and we explode into another consciousness as prepared we were when birthed last but it could have been worse we could have been birthed in the 40th millennium
the god emperor sits not on his golden throne but lies dormant in his diapers, he is waking, transcending what it means to be human even though he never was to start with, what hand brought this sliver of divinity to our dark and bysmal shores?
what light burned so bright that it would be seen millennia from now but we did not recognize even as he walked in our midst he felt more a prophet of chaos than an atheist, trying to dissolve and decipher the mithraic mysteries because only the divine holds power over crusades

and banks

and i think to myself, what a wonderful world

we want to do good, we want to know that we have done good so we can get a pat on the back or a pinched cheek or a pinched ass because we want to be something, anything to anyone out there willing to throw a bone or a lifeline and we just want to go home every night after work and silently

in a bubble double helix sings

breathe in this life old snail let it fill your nostrils let it fill your heart and your rage do not be tired old snail do not retire into your stolen shell, vibrate and reverberate with life and become renewed feel the thud of your heart and the sear of your rage
Everyone will always be too late