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.