born of divinity, and here we are, contemplating our bodies in a mud pit, lazily slinging filth at each other, sleeping in it, eating it, covering ourselves in it, laughing stupidly: the sun burns our skin, the sun burns ten trillion light years away, we look at the sky and decide we have grown out of deity and continue to play with ourselves like butterflies with broken wings, refusing to admit that we are dead, we will never reach the sky again, we act like we wanted to be in the dirt and ground all along, refusing to speak, only screaming in our hearts, bleeding and bleeding, pleading with you, with me, to understand us, to realize your superiority, your sensuality is cute/ would look great on a t-shirt/, must have learned all you know from a girl in a trendy coffeehouse who is either bony or thick but either way she's dead inside, and yet she smiles and laughs, loves low-budget slasher flicks and appreciates the art in the design of the stupid shirt you're wearing, hates the man, damn the man, this is what you wanted to see? this is it for you and me, for us, for everyone else, it begins and ends here, bury yourself, rot in the street, none of it really matters to any of us. in our happy sandbox of youth we are fascinated with kisses and the colors of our underwear, while ten trillion and change lay dying over the hill it's cute and funny to wear your hair that way it's so deep, so deep, means so much more than some damned oppresive theology, this is what is important to us all, we're exciting and new, fresh, stylish, so deadly, appreciative of all cultures, all walks of life and non-christian religions, preferably magic, my eyes water as i look over your fields, your deserted highways and rain soaked streets. blood tears i cry. is this what you wanted to be? better than a non-existant god and equal to maggots, in the end all the stars will burn out, the fridge bulb turns off, the cold seeps in and it gets deep into everything. we'll be long dead by then, but it will happen i'm sure. everything here is sexy, everything is cool, everything is trendy, everything is indie/artsy/cute don't say it's sexy to me anymore:
REALIZE THAT I TRIED, BUT IT MAKES NO DIFFERENCE, YOU WILL GO OUT AND ORDER YOUR DISGUSTING MEAL ANYWAY you chew smoke and it's a grayish jelly that sqiushes in your mouth, the smoke fills your lungs, your eyes, your belly, you chew your heart, rub all over your body to bring back that spark that has been completely utterly destroyed in you and everything you've ever done: IT'S OVER - the black fade in, the credits roll up and the stupid music plays and they walk out, nodding thoughtfully and discussing how tastefully executed the sex scenes were while i screamcry like a baby denied his mother, ripping the walls down , my tears burning my face, is this what you wanted to see? in our little sandbox of dirt and mud, we grovel and hump and spit everywhere like untrained and useless dogs-- ten trillion and change dying on our door step, i'm so artistic and better than everyone else, the dogs say as they lick themselves- this is only natural and therefore i am better than you
i am so tired and now i sleep the sleep of the dead innocents.