these muddy waters

 

offer a two-toed diagnosis of truth, distasteful and quickly cleaned up, sprayed over with cucumber and a hint of musk

every sentience is doomed to ignore its own breath, stab at immortality, float over the crunch of gravel beneath its feet and form a guilty alliance with itself to hide ugly, gut-wrenching fact

but this world can never be pristine and endless, if our apparition were clear or unreflective, it can never be alive

if we will consider hate as the voluntary about-face from the love dispenser, and worship the necessary up-face toward our own impossible greatness, I no longer know where to look, to believe in anything, my feet have gotten boring

yet if this life flowed on a bedrock downstream, and never looked back, or up, it can never be convincing enough, irony hardly justifies oxygen

no its delusion, the raison'd'etre, keeps us deserving - strapped and alive,

delusion, nature's own pyramid scheme, selling the greatest parodies of truth ever unveiled, the smell of earth on a dismal rain, these perpetual dawns, promises of new islands when the world has failed,

millions and millions of little delusions of insignificance comfortably linked to a vast and irresponsible delusion of grandeur

and the truth? a hysterical joke of course, that may never be spoken without a fake red honker, assuring the world, haha, just kidding, never fear.