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Deus Ex Machina (Raphael, Ambien and The Tempest)

September 4, 2013


There will be no revolution.
We are neutered.
And each starving institution.
Will suck the marrow from the bone.
A drawn out execution.
No job.
No clothes.
No car.
No home.
Until there’s nothing left.
But still you drink the Soma.
You arbiters of value.
You inquisitors of death.
Smiling, sputtering at the surface.
When there’s such beauty in the depths.
The freedom in caring for nothing.
The absolution of the bereft.
The lucidity that comes from screaming.
“I was born to this and nothing more!”
Hooked up to these machines.
We’ve forgotten what our hands are for.
A goldfish swimming around a bowl.
A goldfish flapping on the floor.
Breathe easy, beauty.
Take my hand and take its kiss.
We’ll both lay down at the silent maw.
There is no greater peace than this.


From → Poetry

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