inner muse ejaculated upon the world
oftentimes unnoticed, stains along
the bottom sides of capital life's secondhand cushions
easing the existential pain of mundane existence
common wage slave's resistance
"LIFE IS PAIN MOTHERFUCKER"
proclaimed buddha ray moore
and never have those words been truer -
that's it… never have they been truer…
this is what being human is about
navigating the ridiculously sprawling labyrinth
of manmade obstacles we've built over centuries
stale places of mildew and rot
and devising a way to make it feel fresh
cultivating bang culturing bang
to fend off the metaphysical vultures
by swinging our vorpal blade
around at the entangling world trying
to choke us out like kudzu made of burnt copper
wires snaking through yakubian spreadsheets…
by swinging our vorpal blade
clearing out a little space
to take a deep breath
and realize deep in your heart
fuck it
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