The world has lost all levels,
found itself in extremes,
the spirits finely conformed,
so that they do not wound themselves.
Fear and panic are supposed to calm the waves,
to redeem lemmings at the slaughterhouse,
for only with bloody, rusty, spiritual chains
can the wheat be stripped from the chaff.
Belief has never been less knowledge,
bullshit is spread from all sides,
so knowledge must not kiss in the confusion of madness,
until the soul’s last hold slips away.
So many media, but no expertise at all,
everything is oversaturated, but no satisfaction,
infinite possibilities, but everything on the edge,
so many people but no humanity at all.
And I sit here and write my wisdom out of my head,
in the belief that I can protect myself from all of this,
thus becoming my own spiritual harlot
and can’t do myself or anyone else any good.
I desperately try to remain reflective,
conditionally treat my rotting mind,
can thus be “prepared” to drift towards madness,
while my doubt derails my existence…!
