He knows your desires.
He know your hopes and dreams.
He knows that you know
He is not what he seems.

Your hope is so great,
that you will not see his smirk.
While he winks at your faith,
You take him at his word.

When reality serves
his unsavory dish,
Know only you have been
as deceived as you wish.

Until I look I'm happy
And then, y'know... I see.

It's so much nicer without
that shallow corporate "squee".

The diatribe of private dictators
so self-servingly

Proclaiming that their failure is
the fault of their employee.

Their mistake is in the hiring
of those who will not sip

That rancid, unappealing
Kool-aid fed by drip.

Can you show me
The only way?
Do you know it?
Can we go
Together?
Is it heaven today
When it rains forever?

To true believe
Consciously,
I sleep under
Hypocrisy,

And wonder.

Hypocrisy
Make a fool of me.

And the good will acting,
Acting selfishly,
And the boulder rolling,
rolling, falling.

No real desire,
But to push again.
The myth of nihilism.
Where all I find is much
too much.

Then what is this call?

I need another name,
but "God".
Of "Him" I cannot drink.
Or "death drive", or "entropy",
Or a "sharp wave cascade",
Or the "heat death of the universe"
Theory.

Belief.

Hypocrisy.

Name yourself "Truth"
to mask your lies.
Claiming none can see
without your eyes.
You fear to face inward,
so in words you hide.
But blatant analogy
reveals your disguise.

Why do I only trust _ ?
Metaphor obscures,
Aesthetic dilutes
intent.

In summer’s garden witness:
A brightening twine,
Along with elder brother,
Two bees fighting.

There,
a battle seemed unnatural.

Toiled once in unison,
But here they tousled.
Buzzing.

Hive and Harmony.
Discordant.
Buzzing.

Efferent corbiculae,
Of twelve legs,
Of a thousand eyes.

A brightening twine.
Two bees fighting.

Their
battle is unnatural.

You got a taste as
The teeth sank in.
A Mouthful of guts.
Spitting Ravenous,
Hungry savage.
Chase em with
the noose tied.
Burn a house down
with a family inside.
No escaping this time.

Sparks. Shatter. Glass.
The hateful gather.
Tongues pointed, lusted.

Mob Justice...

Deny. Deny.
A distended death cry.
Woke with the taste of blood,
and never know why.

"Got carried away"
"Just a little mistake."
"A good person, I swear."
"You just had to be there."

"The blood. The blood."
"Was all up in my head"
"You didn't hear what they said."

"Guilt is dispersed."
"You can't blame me."
"I'm just one of the many."

Retract. Retract.
Rejects those facts.
"What you saw was fake."
"We were heroes that day."
"Propaganda, you see."
"What was done unto them,
was done unto me!"

Forgive and Full Pardon.
"We were right! We were right!"
"What fire? What night?"
No screams. No bodies.
No guilt in sight.
No Justice.
No...

Just...

...