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Question Reality Apr 2015
We were all raised on lies.
Santa Claus, God, Democracy,
all known to be untrue,
in the hearts of even the most earnest
mommies and daddies,
almost certainly untrue, all of it,
as they fed us, the society of lies,
one spoonful at a time into our innocent mouths.

Every mommy and daddy learns why,
as their guilty hearts realize why truth
can’t be told to the glistening, trusting eyes
of their most precious spawn.

Eat up, my dear thing.  Maybe
you’ll find someone else to help share
your burden, maybe to love.
Live long, and watch them all die,
Watch your every labor crumble and blow away,
just in time for all your precious memories
to rot in the ground.

The heart dares not tell the truth, even to itself,
dares not invite the question no
mommy or daddy is prepared to answer:
Why?  Why did you create me in such a world?
Because I wanted someone young to fetch me things.
Because my life was empty.
Because that’s what mommies and daddies do.
Because I’ll die first, so it’s safe to love you.
Question Reality Mar 2015
When you're lucky enough
to find yourself having great ***,
you keep going.
Prudence pushed aside,
nurses her sore feelings for another day.
This day,
you keep going
until everyone is spent.

With animal ***,
you simply open the orifice,
accept the appendage,
and mop up the mess.

With drug ***,
millions invade.
I just lay there, open
wanton
innocent synapses
entirely vulnerable,
and invite the eager hordes in.

Plasticity pushed aside,
nurses her sore feelings for another day.
This day,
I keep going
in orgiastic union
with some very
promiscuous molecules.

— The End —