Objective reality is a theater of shadows, we understand
renouncing desire itself, thirsty hope that the body
christ is a cracker, this is renounced reason, but it is not stupid
soul crushing complicity, it is praised possibility raising
a crowd surf politics, not one of us knows it is incorrect.
So void plane paranoia, I guess the answer is a kevlar vest
rumination, stitching verbs in the lining of everything
not tethered, knowing this is the only way, it seems as
though it cannot be so, defeatist feelings are not the sun
or the moon, clarity is not obstinate so there’s always hope.
Bare the body audacious, strip every opinion to the bone
revealing the truth of conscious, what do you see at the eyes
closed and twitching, if not a golden sunset, nightmares from within
have brought us here, so the solution may be likewise
dreaming a future, or just as likely not because of fatigue.