Brittle Ones

Plastic patriots melting at the first sign of fire
screaming battle cries when held from what they desire
inconvenience the hardship of the suburban warrior
failing everything they once held close to inspire

Beat down doors, demanding their retail slaves
screaming for service on the sides of open graves
One degree of separation from the murder committed
No tears for corpses, just the vanity the service saves

The brittle ones breaking at the first sign of stress
Never tested, never sacrificed, wasting prosperity given
Demand human sacrifice at the first sign of duress
Hedonistic the motivation and arrogance driven

Ashes lost in the dust of consumer hoarding stupidity
Ignorance an orgasmic bliss after years of torpidity
Not one action taken to protect those they demand serve
Screaming with the frustration of years of flaccidity

Bragging about how the apocalypse would let them rise
how they would survive against any surprise
a month of sitting in the comfort of air conditioning
shows that it is their own company they despise

Break away the little pieces
chip away all the lies
break through the shell of delusion
forcing open the eyes
the light of truth is blinding
the screaming is too real
the adult diapers start filling
hedonism is zeal

The brittle ones breaking at the first sign of stress
Never tested, never sacrificed, wasting prosperity given
Demand human sacrifice at the first sign of duress
Hedonistic the motivation and arrogance driven

Stones

The chains embedded, screwed through flesh into bone
Bolted to limbs, deep in the marrow, each riveted to its own stone

The friction compels you to lay down and die
The weight choruses the song of futility
The screws turn; digging deeper, invisible agony
Clouding the feedback of your reality

Each time you rise higher the chains let you climb
The stones mute and unmoving
Until the end of the slack jerks you to entropy
And drag you away from improving

When floods of despair enter your plane
Filling it full of uncertainty
the chains let you swim gasping for air
The stones anchor you to your perversity

Self-doubt and ridicule are tied to your legs
Arms secured by bleak apathy
Trauma is bolted to the back of your skull
Your spine secured by antipathy

The chains just long enough to tease
letting you rise on hills of small pleasures
then guilt locks down on your chest
and drags you back down under pressure

There is no way out without some pain
removing the chains link by link
finally, take out the screws that can reconnect
before the stones make you forever sink

Photo by Fabrizio Conti on Unsplash

Fertile

How fertile is your field
means little to the bull
you keep feeding him, taking shit
he makes sure the field is full

the cows will stand there chewing
making food for food that feeds
to become the rare in the flames ensuing
or just be the one that breeds

big, empty round eyes stare blank
at the reality they always miss
where it was once death before dishonor
how did it come to this

keep on opening that mouth wide
and stand there masticating
smile some more, wait for the flash
time for the eviscerating.

the daily grind will slowly feed you
into your own intestines
imploding force fed fallacies
from the failure you’re investing

through the machine you’re processed
and packaged for consumption
or discarded when it is discovered
that you have no useful function

you fertilize the field
and the bull shuffles it’s feet
just another cycle
that is destined to repeat.

Changes in the air

In the air, petrichor
an ancient scent I’ve smelled before
brings in memories
of downpours past
quenching the desert that drinks deep for the fire it will endure.

More fun!

Facebook is getting cuntier with it’s community guidelines and selective Fucking, so I’ll be posting here more!