The universe paints itself in an abyss too lush to touch up
It is; therefore it thinks…that you should shut the fuck up
Compartmentalizing the unknown – pornographic fluff to suck us
into the lie that minds of science aren’t getting just as buttfucked
by it. Close your eyelids. Picture 100 billion light years.
You can’t – so don’t imagine that you can trust your sight here.
Reality is quite clear on the gravity of your orbit:
What are the lances of man’s acumen when the galaxy is a fortress?
Planet Earth. Damned since birth. A lawless perdition.
Coifed with ambition from paradoxical symptoms:
consider Luna. she pulled life from sea to land, creating all our existence -
formed by the same cosmic collisions that have been cause of extinction.
The most modest of wisdom can state the problems facing
our planet – from greenhouse gasses to the weight of population.
Rampant disease, finite food sources, depleting aquifer basins -
it’s all knowledge you’ve gained but try to hide from honest engagement.
Modernist waste and economic displacement riddle our borders
it’s the fate of the Mercator: we live in a picture distorted.
Belittling corners of women’s importance, man’s miniature mortgage
is powerful people pedaling Seabiscuit autographs – their signature horse shit.
Down the road is Jim and his Porsche, the community sight to see
Julie, his wife to be, truly the brightest sieve…
from the shiner that he gave her for “intruding his privacy.”
Illusions of primacy exist in every neighborhood
polluted entirely by the listless webs you rate as good.
Pricks you never hated – shunned from conscious thought though
like the fatass across the street, you know the one (you call him Costco)
fast-food junkie, desk job monkey. The litter on his lawn is awful
he thinks he’s a Jack of all trades…
since he’ll readily exchange health and virility for a deal on Monster Tacos.
Don’t forget the feel of constant potholes on top of the road
leading to your driveway that’s impossibly old.
Shoddy upholstering, termites sharing walls with the mold -
(insert metaphor for how it’s like your body and soul)
Endless problems erode your sense of purpose in life
Giving you cause to lose hope: you are worthless and trite.
At all levels of matter you don’t matter, there is nothing of use
Might as well shrug and reduce your views into a “what can ya do?”
Almost everything is out of your control, you may think it’s perverse
But see the other side – that’s really more a gift than a curse.
The systems of existence will work so long as you don’t implore to be
more than the dirt you came from (problems bloom from delusions of authority).
Don’t fret about the rest of your time, one day you’ll eventually die
and the world won’t blink an eye…
if it did for every death, the universe would be perpetually blind.
Not every disease’ll be cured, there won’t be global peace for wars
but there’s only one world: your world. Experience is uniquely yours.
The world is too big to conquer, the hows and whys of it are infinite
Leave those burdens for the birds – breath a sigh of insignificance.
Energy is never created or destroyed, it just opens a new chapter.
So what you put into the world lives forever – what you do matters.
“Conquer yourself rather than the world.” – René Descartes