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Dec 2013
Waking is like that final breath before the plunge
Down deeper into the thick of possibility
Where I find the Nietzchian mastery
That mentality that dominates and conquers
Leaving behind the pitiful
Weaker modes of being
That sharp edge of nihilism that propagates
The negation of substantial purpose
And living becomes a series of tasks that are manageable
Not the overbearing jumbled cluster **** of modern man

How I dream of Walden
That escape to find existential meaning
That reverts me back to an independent self that relies on not man but nature
To derive sustenance
Long for that shack
In the middle of no where where the worry of the day is to feed myself
And to stare at the stars
Instead of work long hours and still have no freedom to see

But it is not probable that I will have an escape
For the planet is dying one tree at a time
And the ignorance of our species is making
My exodus a place worse than the suburb
At least there I don't witness the choking of innocent creatures on pollution
Gasping for air through lungs riddled with fume
And foaming on plastic by product

While I contribute no animosity towards my mother I participate by association
And feed the monster it's favorite treat
That sickly green paper
And a snack of penny meat

While my exceedingly more mechanical mind cranks the cogs tighter
And starts to rhyme
Filling in the line space and paying my dues I become another body
Thus a weapon to the corporateΒ Β move
Emily Jones
Written by
Emily Jones  25/Cis/NORTH LITTLE ROCK AR
(25/Cis/NORTH LITTLE ROCK AR)   
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