(D) Evolution
Touch a dead Eye, the orb within the socket, glassy,lazy, the stare of the dead, the stare of the damned, the stare of the dying, the stare of the dead. Accusatory, one is not responsible for the death as the death is as death always is...a long time in the making.
So one leaves the corpse as it leaves all corpses, dead, dressed up in it's finest, and in the ground.
Dead, bitter, dead, withered, dead, decayed, dead, hopeless, dead, unmourned, dead, desolate.
One grew a grave in it's throat, it's mouth the casket, it's tongue the blade that made the dead; one slit your wrists in it's head, gathers up the remains and buries them deep in the gray matter, in the cold ground, in the cold ether.
insect intentions, reptile stare, the logic of an organic murder machine. One burns itself, one walks the funeral pyre to shed the dead things collected to it, to leave them incinerate of me, let the fire of what is cast off the parasites, to evolve past the self grown into, to surpass one's self, to change, to attain. One thrives from the dead it leaves behind, one knows that the ground it walks, the path it carves for itself is paved on tombstones.
Pull the blade from your face and bleed out the redemption, rush of warmth and life leaving cold death behind, hold the wound tight enough to slow the bleeding but slight enough to never heal; bleeding to death slowly is love.
Chew the entrails, tear out all that is within and feed on it, grind the soft meat of self under hard sharp molars, and swallow hard. In swallowing that bitter meal is acceptance of self, of limitation, of failure.
The meal makes for a tough hide, the less viscera within, the harder the exterior outside the head. the more time spent within makes the eternity of moments outside thereof seem so minute, so less than real, in actualization stems disassociation from reality, nesting so deep in the core as to shed the that is abound, around, that which is environment, all melts under that constant introspection, dissection, degradation, loathing, the grand multiple lifetimes spent in isolation within the swarm, of singularity, seeking clarity inside the tornado, there is an eye and living in it can bring madness or utter clarity and serenity.
So one leaves the corpse as it leaves all corpses, dead, dressed up in it's finest, and in the ground.
Dead, bitter, dead, withered, dead, decayed, dead, hopeless, dead, unmourned, dead, desolate.
One grew a grave in it's throat, it's mouth the casket, it's tongue the blade that made the dead; one slit your wrists in it's head, gathers up the remains and buries them deep in the gray matter, in the cold ground, in the cold ether.
insect intentions, reptile stare, the logic of an organic murder machine. One burns itself, one walks the funeral pyre to shed the dead things collected to it, to leave them incinerate of me, let the fire of what is cast off the parasites, to evolve past the self grown into, to surpass one's self, to change, to attain. One thrives from the dead it leaves behind, one knows that the ground it walks, the path it carves for itself is paved on tombstones.
Pull the blade from your face and bleed out the redemption, rush of warmth and life leaving cold death behind, hold the wound tight enough to slow the bleeding but slight enough to never heal; bleeding to death slowly is love.
Chew the entrails, tear out all that is within and feed on it, grind the soft meat of self under hard sharp molars, and swallow hard. In swallowing that bitter meal is acceptance of self, of limitation, of failure.
The meal makes for a tough hide, the less viscera within, the harder the exterior outside the head. the more time spent within makes the eternity of moments outside thereof seem so minute, so less than real, in actualization stems disassociation from reality, nesting so deep in the core as to shed the that is abound, around, that which is environment, all melts under that constant introspection, dissection, degradation, loathing, the grand multiple lifetimes spent in isolation within the swarm, of singularity, seeking clarity inside the tornado, there is an eye and living in it can bring madness or utter clarity and serenity.