Fading away, like a music.
No jolts, no sadness.
Just a beautiful face.
Religious sacrement is ambiguous.
Failed priests. Another age.
But why would you sacrifice?
Offering instant gratification
to the masses.
Malicious intent is still intent.
Another dimension. Another reality.
Goodbye.
Who do I listen to?
Perhaps you should have stayed
silently, creating something
special with your studies.
Build your wealth,
employ your sciences only with
amazing goals. Ah, my brain.
Must charter the universe.
There is no web, there is no
spider weaving. Only matter.
Matter and history.
Learn from us, your bitter
ancestors, the sweep of evolution.
The great story, you martyr.
You seem reluctant.
The shores, they lick at your
ankles. Salt deposits and foam.
All that is, or ever was.
Contemplations stir.
Leave us alone, without our
sensations of grandness.
I need not your preaching,
your sadness, your dust.
Tiny planetary moulding rock.
Simply dangerous and promising.
Why must I trust another speck
with my entire life? My fate?
It is my own truth, filled with
speculations and masturbations.
Exquisite relationships only
fill me with tainted deepness.
Some part of me knows.
That Ocean is entirely my body.
Starstuff and dust.
My journey begins in my skull.
Tapping my temple, I pull apart
the dandelion puff and bite
the bitter milk.
The blood, plants scream when they
are plucked.
Their juices are not for such as I.
First voyages and scienctists
are better than my own cries.
The depths of embedment are vast.
Birth, live, death, tumultuous.
Jets of energy, my core is
incinerated.
Detroy all in our path.
A splash in my pond, step, step.
A ring, your iris it shines.
Holy local groups, I find.
Containing island chains.
Only 2 million years from home.
Passing over our satellites.
No more writing, no more stars.
Gravity prevails and globes unite.
Centres are millions strong,
like a swarm, a sun, the bee has
stung.
Impossible to stuff the guts.
Spiralling in nothingness.
Arms turn, turn away. Turn from
my face. Curdles outside.
Our home is orange and wide.
Blue in the obscure waters, we
have evolved.
Such intelligence is no indication
that any edge-on view is right.
Please, don't tell me what to believe.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 8:56 PM UTC
Fading away, like a music.
No jolts, no sadness.
Just a beautiful face.
Religious sacrement is ambiguous.
Failed priests. Another age.
But why would you sacrifice?
Offering instant gratification
to the masses.
Malicious intent is still intent.
Another dimension. Another reality.
Goodbye.
Who do I listen to?
Perhaps you should have stayed
silently, creating something
special with your studies.
Build your wealth,
employ your sciences only with
amazing goals. Ah, my brain.
Must charter the universe.
There is no web, there is no
spider weaving. Only matter.
Matter and history.
Learn from us, your bitter
ancestors, the sweep of evolution.
The great story, you martyr.
You seem reluctant.
The shores, they lick at your
ankles. Salt deposits and foam.
All that is, or ever was.
Contemplations stir.
Leave us alone, without our
sensations of grandness.
I need not your preaching,
your sadness, your dust.
Tiny planetary moulding rock.
Simply dangerous and promising.
Why must I trust another speck
with my entire life? My fate?
It is my own truth, filled with
speculations and masturbations.
Exquisite relationships only
fill me with tainted deepness.
Some part of me knows.
That Ocean is entirely my body.
Starstuff and dust.
My journey begins in my skull.
Tapping my temple, I pull apart
the dandelion puff and bite
the bitter milk.
The blood, plants scream when they
are plucked.
Their juices are not for such as I.
First voyages and scienctists
are better than my own cries.
The depths of embedment are vast.
Birth, live, death, tumultuous.
Jets of energy, my core is
incinerated.
Detroy all in our path.
A splash in my pond, step, step.
A ring, your iris it shines.
Holy local groups, I find.
Containing island chains.
Only 2 million years from home.
Passing over our satellites.
No more writing, no more stars.
Gravity prevails and globes unite.
Centres are millions strong,
like a swarm, a sun, the bee has
stung.
Impossible to stuff the guts.
Spiralling in nothingness.
Arms turn, turn away. Turn from
my face. Curdles outside.
Our home is orange and wide.
Blue in the obscure waters, we
have evolved.
Such intelligence is no indication
that any edge-on view is right.
Please, don't tell me what to believe.
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