He lingers the earth, staggering awkwardly
Leaking ideology from his open wounds
He covers it with the bandage of dogma
A bandage stewed in the piss and filth of his own self-worship
He’ll tell you he’s the most intelligent creature of the lands
That the animals of the Wild are fools in contrast to his countless ventures
Ventures such as spending much of his life in a school box
So that he may then create a new reality, a superior one, he’ll tell you!
He hopes to find a new shiny job box and perhaps, a home box
He’ll make others like him so they, too, can do the same. A fulfilled life, he’ll proclaim!
But they’ll all end in a pine box, I tell you
From the very place they left so triumphantly
I can still see him. He still walks! The heroic man. The bipedal animal.
Unable to stand on his own two feet, he emits excuses for his clumsiness
He loves himself so. Every last sickening, dying part of himself
So he says, as he swallows oceans of his own poisonous self-belonging
His proud gait has led him astray. Scared and frantic, he panics, fright takes him
Hah! He has fallen into his own vomit, laying in his voided excrement
Yet, up he goes. Onward, into the abyss of self-righteous belonging
Hold! He reeks of smoke! He gasps, helplessly, clawing for air
And now, a glorious site, flames take root… yet he continues on!
Pathetic fool, clumsy as his own ideas and entitlement
Smiling as his already putrid flesh burns
A lovely smell
His smile fades as dread of the primal sets in. That which he has forgotten
His self-love has led him here. Full of pride and stupidity, his time has come
Terrorized, he cries for himself. He weeps. Oh, what a beautiful sound
The sound of peace, at last. The sound of perfection. Oh, what a sound
May his suffering ever be such a glorious site. Oh, what a sound!