Who Will Save me From This Body That Is Subject To Death?

Sonorous nonsense driven home with gestures
which bifurcate the conferential notion of reality.
Demarcating experience into a disingenuous echo of truth –
where is the line?
Do we draw it ourselves?

Everything I know,
and everything I hold dear
is a self-induced narcotic
that structures my life
into a complex that helps me to sleep at night.
(Except not really.)

I am not a son.
I am not a student.
I am not an employee.
I am not culture –

I am not a structured existential coping methodology.

I am not you –
I am not me.
I am
a being which is destined for death.

What else is there?

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s