Saturday, September 16, 2017

Whatever 2, Touch It

Whatever and ever in it is and will be your
dissonant song and blood your food your
fibre your ultimate entity your skilled
weaving narrative your perfect crystal vision your
fucking rock opera masturbation crying fucking
death riding into sunset crying fucking

Whatever is, is

And whatever shall be,
is, already, somewhere,
trapped in dust and dirt in the code of the
math of time in the algorithm of His
holy unholy science
Fuck, nothing matters when I'm thirsty,
nothing matters when I need to shit,
only thirst and shitting,
but don't cry for me or anyone -
just be

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