Bugging me out

insects have my respect

and fear

as does the sun

and the passing of seasons

people come in different levels

of intoxication

and possession

 I rarely find

an equal operating in the same space

I gave up living a liar’s dream 

allowed myself a taste

and the world

trembles in a drunken vibration


As symbols 

clouding the visions 

of a stumbling species 

parasitically preyed upon 

so intensly


can be their self 


I pray for a cure

like the first frost

like the whipping wind

a magical 


that sets everyone free

and gives the blessing

of health

to the weak

we do not get sick

we do not die

something is wrong 

and that is no lie

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