There is a certain stench people occupy
When they are severely wounded.
****, and **** and blood,
Perineum that has gone neglected,
Flesh literally being eaten alive;
The fumes of self abandonment,
All smell the same when someone is hurt,
And start to smell normal, after a while.
People make weird cries,
When everyone is asleep
To a God they never believed in
Or somebody, anybody.
A reverberation of an infant lost,
primality in the last hours
Reminds us we were always alone.
Pain unnecessary in nature
for the white Coats
don’t even know who they're helping.
A student’s peep in the door becomes
The equivalent of four months salary
Of a single black mother with a bad back
Three ******* children,
No belt around their waists,
Drinking herself to sleep every night,
anything to keep going,
Enough insanity to terrify satan himself.
Ignorance is bliss; but the truths such
Inhumanity unearth are asinine.
Now, or maybe always, being genuine
Has been ostracized; it is where generations are born.
Health experts turn their head to pure suffering
Because they have no health themselves.
Pure suffering is endorsed
By those who have never felt it,
Just because it is easier nowadays.
Nobody is sick, everybody is reacting
To the strength of your heart.
We wait, going through motions
For the next episode of a TV drama
That ***** on your life,
The glorification of the internal whirlwind
One can place upon their own psyche.
Those demons masquerading around with dopamine wands
And you wish to be like that.
Kindness can change hearts.
Now we need movies to show us
That having emotion is too extreme
To deal with.
Emotion is older than consciousness itself.
We have become afraid to love.
We have become afraid of ourselves.
We have become amnesic to the
Fact that we are indeed