Do YOU Want the Lights On, Or Off?


Neanderthals raised the clink
Of stone breaking apart pebble.

What smiled in the wind
Ought to have a conscious
Desire to expose emotion
Behind the gesture.

A glowing ATM sign.
Is IT yellow?
Or white?

And some paper lipped scowl
Punched three holes into their mouth.
Sorted emotion using metal hooks,
Which glinted like fresh blood spilled
On that slaughter room’s floor.

I can smell
Permanent maker,
But I cannot see IT.


Is IT there?

I know ITS end.
But everything ought to have
A beginning.

The Pythagorean-s demanded balance
Using equations.

I find a lack of trust within the balance of my senses.

Beelzebub is burning
Like infected urine

God is cold
Like a corpse’s genitals.

And humanity
Is somewhere
In the middle.

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