Don't get it twisted
I feel rush of giving

I gush for you
I want to give until I'm raw
Give until it doesn't even feel good anymore
Until I regret it and have to squash the regret because it's a false thing
And then feel good for giving a second time.

I don't even want things for myself
I want you to have enough.

I don't need greatness
I just want us all to have what we need.

And I'm sorry if my experience automatically means you don't always get what you need.

Or do I always get what I need and it's a test of faith?

Looking at the event horizon,
I see derivatives.

Aspects i could only uphold for a brief section
To you, that was the whole time.

People who were physically beautiful their entire life,
Well how could they be and not me?
Because they are derivative,
And though I could always be invalidated on this point and called insane,
I believe I'm looking out
And seeing all reflections of myself,
Everything derivative.

People who could always sing,
People who were always sad,
I was always a baby, i always had to die.

All mixed aspects
Infinity lensed through infinity
You end up with products utterly dissimilar.

But they all have veins tied in to me
I am the heart of this entangled matter
But I always existed and I'm just a moment along that recurring timeline
Each moment fighting to be important
Or maybe some taking a submissive role
Or maybe some fighting and losing
Or maybe some are both
Or maybe some winning
Or maybe winning is losing
Or maybe there are always so many ways to look at a moment
Or maybe there is only one and that's this right now
But I see derivatives
These characters are all derivatives
All necessitated by my existence

But am I special
Or am I inert?

"Don't you dare disrespect me"
He said.

We are trying to stretch it out
It is not disrespectful
It is fine
It is enough
It is even pleasurable

No it is not,
Stop lying,
You don't enjoy that

You are DEFINITELY ALLOWED
To express that you don't
Yes I know you see the privileged ones doing it
Yes I know that is such a shameful thing

But complain

Want more

Because I know you don't enjoy that.

I know you have fought so hard to say you do,
But swallow your pride
You don't
You don't enjoy it.

You want more
And yes you will regret it but go on
Take more
Adventure on

Nothing will stop your future regret
But I want you to have this

They are the things we call great from certain angles
They are the things we will die for

Yes yes yes they will call us evil
It is beyond certain
Yes yes yes this poem could even be used against you
You believe yourself exonerated
But go a level deeper
What's the worst thing you would do, huh?

Just take your slice and die,
It will always disappoint in the end
You can't hide your shame
But take your slice, take it
And yes, for the love of God
Complain.

If you must.

I stand before God,
A brazen thing
A human alleging to understand exactly what it is
Aware of the element of idiocy
Aware, aware, aware
Of the spectrum enacting itself

Of the weirdness of history

The experience wants and betrays itself
The experience hides
The experience watches itself warily

No demiurge to speak of
There is not one way
Singularity is a lie
I see you

"I see your crooked path"
Well you made it be crooked
It is not my fault
And I truly did not have a choice

Yes you did,
It makes me so mad when you say that
Oh, you will understand

No one feels bad for Satan
No one feels bad for Satan
No one feels bad for Satan

No one feels bad for Satan
No one feels bad for Satan
No one feels bad for Satan
Except the devil himself.

Your bleached bones sit in the cellar.
"She was impertinent,"
I said
With a sip of my morning tea.

The tea with blueberry honey,
The tea with a spoonful of cream.

Aw rats, yoiu said,
I guess I'm dead
And kept right on living
Like Ozzy forking Osborne
Like Rick forking Grimes
But you live on like bones
In the cellar of my mind
The bitter milk of Lilith
Like "I don't have to bow to myself"
So I don't
I go on living
This impossible life.

When I fell asleep last night
It felt like I was dying
Now I know what life is
And I still can't do it right

Giving up the day
I faded into nothing
When I fell asleep last night
I felt like I was dead.

In every season you sing with my heart,
In simple words like skipping stones and natural cycles.

In hard truths and limitations,
In steep slopes and easy meadows.

I want to dip my pen in the inky pool of your right eye
And write a Gothic fairytale
That traces on harmonics
I've noticed in the sky's expanse.

A crisp image lives in my mind
A good person is never hard to find
You're a hand to hold,
A standing guard,
A fire inside.