Hell, in a vomit hole with coffins embleached, crack whores roaming sewers, and the princess that loses value to a meth head junkie . Its only business. Life like, treading down to nowhere, the mind’s eye catches a glimpse of his own futility. Like dancing trinkets in a marriage hall, when we dissolve down to particles, who is that’ll fetch us home? Or pick up the pieces. You behaved in a manner disallowed by the master, and begged him to arouse you to interest in, hunting down cows and bleeding through gowns.
Who believes in love and war, and makes the world with bone and saw. Alive in all, in death resolved. Ashes and dust, a death forlorn. In death, there will be no questions. Questions are answered, or they’re forgotten.
I will leave a legacy that no man will remember. Sentient beings breathing underwater; while those that own the land believe that they’re Gods. Who is it then, the monster hiding above my head. Watching everyday,with his patriarchs, destroying land air and water through- famine, oil and slaughter. Mutilation, human beings, bacteria, worms, maggots – all forces of death trying to end us once and for all. Death will find us -one and for all -, as will birth. Birth will bring us back to this hell hole, and make us wish our parents hadn’t had an evil gleam in their eyes, and imagined that the world was fun and roses. Who rotates the world, except for a cruel and wicked God that beings puppies in the same world as putrid waste and death and destruction. All ashes to ashes, monks and punks sleeping under the same blanket of dirt and earth.
Who is this supreme lord, I might ask. Who is it that runs the show twice a week, and thrice on Sundays. Who creates words, meanings, sight, sound, perception and acception, breathing all that is dead and alive into the universe. It is you. You see sight, dream lights, sing songs, and enjoy life. You make the universe the universe, and everything in the universe started from a singularity. A big bang in a tiny point of dancing energy. A ba-da booom! particles everywhere crashing like waves and dancing like ballerinas. The black holes and the black swans, all breathing life into this priceless paradise that we perceive ourselves to be in.
But who dareth put us in this position in the first place? Who is this mad man that thinks its ok to have us in this wretched hell hole. Lilies planted on landmines. It is you. You’re God, along with everything in the Universe that dances to the tune of your mind. A simulation where the player is you ,the game is you, and everything around you is you. You and I are one being, one collection of bones, lives and atoms, playing different parts in a movie that has us on the edge of our feet. Begging and crying to go home, while dancing and playing all alone. Only you could have put yourself in this predicament, because no one else can. You know that this universe is a game, and you can’t possibly hurt your own self no matter how many miles you make and how many lives you come back as. Now don’t wait for a messiah and go man! Go, go go.