Smart enough to be scared
But not of the right things
That is the choke point on
My sensorium
so everything‘s on blast
Until something in par
……………………………………..Ti
…………………………………………Cu lar
Wrenches my attention from
Its customary perch
Chasms got causes
Causes got chasms
Chisel at the word in your brain
…………………………………………………….Fling yourself
At that perfect marble word
And create some content god damn you
Bitter git on it
On this hand I have love, love, love, but not the love of romance, the bordering-on-unpleasant revelation that love with lies isn’t love, it’s just a convenient set of tropes that allows you to behave one way and profit from it whether or not you believe. It’s like religion but you don’t get sucked up to heaven or spat out into a new instantiation, stuck with having to learn and suffer and die again again
Again
Nope, you just hoe this row, this row. Normative as fuck, don’t look at the undersides of things.
Mock the people who know better because their teeth are crooked and their English is no good.
I can’t go back and re-hear those things, the things I heard with my racist ears. I didn’t know I was a replicator of death machines; born to give birth to workers and soldiers, and another breeding body. I didn’t know. I still don’t know.
The language I abhor grips me and dashes me at the world until the inside of my head is bleeding, although it’s probably the grease in my blood that makes it so.