You Cannot Be Serious

oh, but i am.
monotony is such a lingerer.


there always comes this point
this inevitable precipice
when time folds in on itself
and everything, everything is exactly the same
everyone's motivations
everyone's ideal
is one in the same in the same one
there is no shroud of mystery;
it's all laid out meticulously
by the writers and critics
designed by dollar signs
bitter, lonely minds huddle
and then suddenly it means nothing
words become agendas
and clothes become primitive symbols
neurons revolt, it's not natural
calculated perceptions deny the essence
of the human state
genuine feelings are devoid of shelter
only a few have survived
group think has pervaded
and i see it all happening
i am both the conscious thief
and the paralyzed victim

mechanical motivation
and the obvious starvation
of all that is natural and good
lingering hesitation
end with libation
and join in the marinating pool
crack open automation
and end imitation
to taste the nectar of truth
end falsification
without liquidation
of all that is natural and you.

you can't let the vapid fog
you've let seep into every twitch and desire
simply rest
simply let be
your life's blood has to be cleaned
and sifted through with the greatest discernment
it must run so green and murky
still i see that faint lilting sparkle
of happy
proof!
ah, yes child,proof
of the best kinds of happy
the real kind
arbitrary hesitation will be no longer
if you take this raw pendant
and wear it round your weary neck
there will be no call to feign
if you wear it right
your tainted blood will one day flow entirely pure.

that should do for now, i'm sure you get the point
*writers block/who am i?*