Such power and artistry here.
Do you shiver before you wake?
I think I saw a premonition
a swarm of cicadas, erupting from my bowels
like glimmering guts squeezed out trough a meat mincer
I think we don’t have a lot of time.
Stumbling newborns trying to outgrow their cosmic cradle,
now dangling in a net of stellar intestines,
where the gift of self consciousness became our worst nightmare
I think that I, too, am too much meat
and not enough self-analytic thought
a respected artist will starve himself,
but I prefer to eat
I actually do believe violence can be resolved with more violence
and I don’t believe in soulmates
(some days, god forbid, I don’t even believe in souls)
I hate only because I’m full of love.
I have learnt to expect the worst, yet,
the world disappoints me again and again,
like a lover who can’t stop fucking the neighbor
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