This is to provoke your eardrums beating to secrete the excessive cerumen of your lies which flow from your venomous mouth repeatedly bragging that it knows all things.

This is to provoke your eye that is not shut yet only desires to see itself, deliriously worshipping the face, so beautiful and thin that when pinched, a pig slop gushes out.

This is to provoke your feet that have long been wanting to stand up, numbed by their prolonged cross-legged pose, cursing the *** that is comfortably seated on the velvety coconut pulp.

This is plainly to provoke your hands that we're supposed to rely on but have no strength, torpid, and only lusting to *******.

This is to provoke you who claim to have been moved but in the end choose to remain still. Numb.
Impotent.