My Job is to Make the Populace Hate Love


“”It’s wrong to say, “I think”; One should say, “I am thought”. I is someone else.”

I use a complete hand to censor a yawn.
‘Complete’ in this context
Refers to my four fingered clutch
Pulling at the gaunt section of my cheek,
Tugging at the flesh
As if I was removing a mask.

Of course
Even spontaneities
Can be rehearsed.

And sometimes
When I am censoring a yawn
I’ll lick the center of my palm.
“A false stigmata.” I’ll claim.
All day
Like a Third Eye. Winking at the unintentional consequences
Derived from a moment’s notice, this routine of foolishness
Is my job. To give life meaning when my senses identify familiarity-
And I desire to corrupt the natural reaction, fuck up the Wu-Wei.

“I am thought.” And thinking is freedom.
And freedom thrives at the revelation
That consciousness is boring.

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