It’s life is our pessimism, flowing from the roots
up, until it makes a river, blood and bile, marrow and semen
flowing its life down
every embankment, in every divot
we planted without forethought, retracting
we are from the consequences
infinitely fracturing, bigger and bigger than bigger
until I can’t breathe, realizing it’s effect was more
in time than I could bear, it was what I marked on the card
at the speed-dating lecture, is what it felt like
reminding me of college like a boner
sitting in a room of your peers, looking at the ground
until you live in the hole you bore with your eyes.
Definitely through the day and whatever
hell will come, eventually a shining pegasus
will scorch the air, you’ll be baked and sizzled,
to speak bluntly, but you’re wrong and have been
for some time, that shining is a heaven
sent perfume, a spiritual smog, like a fog
thick and matted, but finally cuts the knowledge
that you’re an idiot,
undoubtedly, to know that the love lies
within, and if you find it in your everyday, you are the one
to survive the cataclysm, just wear a t-shirt and cheer
for nothing.
But I suppose I would if I could
is a sentiment that really means something, I would
undoubtedly, but it means nothing
so what would I care? It is a stupid word
used by the rich, leisured and elite
like the vikings, they realized that truth is better
than poetry, because truth is understood
in your bones and your blood, if you clarify
the word fog, here at the end, for no purpose
do I write like this, because what matters is
what you think, not the author
and his big dick