I Slice It and Serve It To The Dead

Unpublished pieces

I capture  food from the 
                       electronic silo.
I slice it and serve it to the dead.
Isn't that the point of the process?
Or is it
              the metaphor of existing
                                 that everyone is
                                               looking to find?
We never find it though.
                            It always remains as
                                               elusive as
                                                pickled herrings
                                                                 on toast.
Frankly I'm often not sure
                           exactly what "it" is;
                          or who "they" are for
                                                        that matter.
Whatever I decide, every day I
                                           still need to eat.
And shit. And grow. And piss. And complain.
Regardless of your religion,
                                   you'll have to do the same.
This is how we will achieve
                                   the sanity most of us
                                                                        need to have.
As sane as red coloured ink
                                   running out of a leaking pen.
Or maybe it was a blue pen?
                                 Who gives a fuck?
                                              Who needs to
                                                        be so 
                                                                anally inclined
as to worry over the fabric of the ink?
                                         If it's leaking, red-blue or whatever
                                                                   colour it might be,
                                                    someone will still have to 
                                                                                clean it up.

Stop. Yes, stop bothering the world
                                   with misconceived notions
                                                   of self-importance.
When dead, still the food captured from
                                          the mental process of dying
                                                    will never sustain
                                                                 the cost of the


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