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the Whore Moans

covet thy neighbor’s mouth, speaking in tongues too bizarre to mention Here, in the throes passionately pleading to senses of sensible interest timing as though these manners remain too weary to pass as human as long as the shortage of humanity stays true to whims of those barbarian hordes who would rather stick their dick in your cheek instead of hearing what you have to say… rape and plunder attempting to maneuver into positions of power where no one should be seated for long enough to become the villain of their own story as glory and prosperity would naturally follow the traces of a better person, whereas the villain has nothing left that isn’t of a material property fought hard to be possessed in an act as status quo standard to define the indifference with value that cannot be valued except by the most vile whose whimsy has edges too sharp not to draw the precious blood dripping as perilous killing joke harvesting invested energies seeking justice at the end of the scythe, but maybe this abrupt resolution only appears the layer where a meeting between any of our baser humanity beyond this animal procreation as played-out dramatic retardation for reinforced reasons that do not derive from a natural organic motion of any more than Mankind’s grotesque viral spread throughout a greatly peculiar selection of humanity trying some faux passionate move through stabbing in the dark to seed the next fruitful waves to cryptically fade as the time line stretches out unforgivably… a false imperative mocking the individual items we collect as people defined by our interest in other things making this experience of life worth living in a skin not of our own creation as it tries riding toward the dark light of oblivion opening out like a flower from within as our dividing souls try searching for a harmony, while the beating heart recalls from a vast lore of hidden insight that no corporate whore can assimilate no matter the slave wage displayed hideously satirizing the plight of the average working naive paid foolishly for the hours of life drained away as difficult days found betrayed by childish outbursts reacting to the pressures of tension twisting extending the rapid ascent of fear and guilt at being judged by those as serious-minded an authority required, or are we bitching and complaining for selfish reasons that need more explanation than simply this bitter cycle of doomed cliff-jumping fits into madness afflicting the better memories we could achieve if only we could allow each other to succeed peacefully…

Thanks, khet.