what my eyes see
and my soul feels
my lips are not allowed to say

it’s within my viscera
birth to death
and everything in between
my skin feels pain, bliss
oh so fucking sweet bliss
how i wish all of it were mine
instead of the soul’s orgasms
reverberating through my fascia

and bullets ripping through crowds
i see and hear them too
never soon enough
for the corporeal world
so many times i am those dying
many times i am those dead

psychic, intuitive, empathic
clairvoyant all just mere
empty aproximations
of Heaven and Hell
come to me at random moments
between you and i

fuck
fuck
fuck
intruding with butterfly force
or a brick disolving into sand
scattered by the breaths
of Angels swirling ’round

i know not why this vision shit
foists itself upon me and not foolish enough to fathom
i deserve any answer
to this asshole’s query
as to why instead
content i am only
to always know my role
as this Earth place melts
and mankind continues
feeding, feeding, feeding
upon itself

i, the fool
crossed with the magician
remaining optomistic
even in the world’s darkest nights
that only my eyes can fathom

copyright 2020: all rights reserved

photo: Fool & Earth & Magician (January 2020)