There is a vast Ocean we call the Universe. In it are Galaxies like Plankton. Within them are Stars Systems like Cells. The Stars themselves are like Nuclei, are surrounded by Planets like Ribosomes, Vesicle, Rough and Smooth endoplasmic reticulum, Golgi apparatus, Cytoskeleton, Mitochondria, Vacuole, Cytosol, Lysosome, Centrioles within Centrosome. And sometimes in the planets are Civilizations like Atoms. Within these civilizations are People, some Positive like Protons, some Negative like Electrons, and some who just don't give a ****, just like Neutrons. Making every single thing an Important (but Not Better than the other) part of the Whole System.

In biology today,
We learned that a lysosome
Digests old wornout organelles,
And once it becomes too full,
It will burst,
And its digestive enzymes
Will destroy the cell.

I wonder if the heart will do the same,
Take in
all the lonelys,
all the misfits,
all the hurting,
Take it all in,
Until it bursts and destroys you.

I have too many secrets kept inside,
But I'll just tell you lies,
Or things that don't matter,
Cause I don't matter.

I don't want you to see me.

Someone once told me that
Each crease on your hand is a secret.
And my hands are both deeply lined,
With so many rivers and tributaries...

I have so many things I'm burting to say,
But like a lysosome,
I know if I tell you,
It'll corrode you and digest you,
And it's not worth the pain.
I'm not worth the pain.
So let me carry it all around,
My corpse just a messenger bag,
And I'll release them when I'm
*dead.

Spring tries to grow,
But the sprouts all choke on chemicals.

The sloshing gut of Mammon
Has spilled upon the world

The **** of man exudes a toxic discharge!
Now acrid sludge will swallow up the valley.

It is strewn about by falling objects,
Censers full of fatal fire.

Censers on the sacred highways.

Censers in the holy factories.

Censers toppled
By my own two hands.

Everything is leaving heaven,
Spewing poison on the way to hell.
Everything will find its death.

The Earth smears corrosion on itself--
My heart is a lysosome.

Spring tries to grow, but it chokes on love's sick residue.

Our royal lake spilled in the ocean,
Which fell into
The sky, and I am falling