the closest we get to feeling alive
is by sleeping with death
tangling with evil and emerging
knowledgeable and sticky-fingered
((fruit juice, apple or pomegranate))

we do not know life but as a sidekick for
our suicidal tendency, our desire to lose our consciousness
within the ***** of mob or infatuation
to ***** out our selves, swallow our senses

this is the deepest secret nobody knows
but everyone feels,
we all want to be lost in them
to die while we live
to dream awake

we want to collar up our animal selves
and harness ourselves to the plows of art
and create
and die