autumn

[Sepia]

Friday night and the slummers are here and ready, needy for a piece of what they call reality but here is none- the eastside is filled with their unreality as everyone who wears a blue collar dress up for a couple of days, they slip into the light and out of the darkness because karl marx is still standing in our heart. We may not know him nor like him but his idea like leo said is stuck with us, there is still a battle to be had, molotovs to be thrown and correction errors to be ignored. A dream in the right place can change the world

We strive to do something, to justify our own existence and when the days are bad, the days we're broken we don't see it as something bad if the subway would disintegrate us, we see it as something cold, void with soul but filled with form, a fact or a law in its proper right. We strive with our minds and we imagine our hearts and they say we put our hearts into it but it really isn't, it's all cold calculated movements, parts of dances. The cup of blood overfloweth, we're at this party, so fucking high above us and everyone here is out of their minds and we are served goats blood with champagne, every man and woman is part of this with their eyes wide shut and as I sit in a chesterfield made of latex, the solipsist in me awakens.

It wouldn't matter if I was really staring into a padded wall, it wouldn't matter if I was merely living my own hallucination, it's still our reality and it is our perfection, our colours come mangled when we die, we end in a hatred of the perfect heart but the heart

the heart is not sacred. We're chained to seats watching a movie thinking it is reality and we've done this for so long that we're here, in person, living the pictures as they are played for us, it doesn't matter, it never mattered. The ego and the id zoom by us in a car and we keep thinking about this sound we know we've heard before but we don't know where and suddenly there's this jolt, a door with the light on, opening. We're in the country chaos, where nothing is but we, where the shadows fall differently and light, our perception, is different, is wonky, out of balance and focus and our lives are off the chain

Because we drink to life and when we get drunk enough we make our sacrifices to mother earth and in that place we know her, the old whore, the oldest of the prostitutes lying in the opium bed with her knees apart and most would say she has satan in her heart but her being is alight with the son we give our sundays to and she can never be tainted, never be corrupted. She has seen every sin and she is a god because she accepts it as parts of who you are, why you are. She has seen the darkest of the hearts and she has seen the most brilliant and we are all just this one in her bosom

where we came from and once will return if you want the romantic version. Wake up, neo. neo. wake up, neo. wake up. wake

[Adios]

What an excellent finish to a fantastic piece.