Everything is a sweaty mess
Moving in abnormal directions and seeping into
The pores of the tiny imperfections
Between you and I.

It’s a good day to be enamored
It’s a good day to distill all of the fears
And just occupy these engraved spaces
With all that is subliminal and grand
It’s a good day to get lost in the alleys
Of all that is rugged and real.

All I hear is a rush of noise
Going up at a speed which I cannot comprehend
And all I see is a haze of burn victims
In sterilized spaces.
So **** bright.
A blinding brightness so unreal
And numbing in multi dimensions.

When are we going to realize,
That it’s all a game?
A lucky hand of plastic waste.
When are we going to antagonize,
The sheer disobedience of everything that
Is laid down upon our sensual existence?
A stimulating fantasy of an experience
Of being swallowed whole
And in parts of distinct order.

These words and sounds of these words
And the way we chew on
And on, until the bottom of our
Voiceless chants.

Everything is going astray
But hey,
Let’s rewind.