Inert

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Inert

Such work wresting inoculant reverie,
Now firm and climbing through the limbic system
Your back must never touch the ground.
Never.

Life in society is but pretense
(We are not who we are)
Temporal, linguistic, symbolic.
Plasticene.

There are no gurus.
But-- don't let them know that.
What is "nihilism" by it's own definition?
Tapping warmly, indelibly across the spine

There is entry; but only for all
As every habit may persuade the mind
(for those who know)
Pursuit itself comes of redundance.

A fracture in praxis.
But-- You are not free to speak of it.
Your back must never touch the ground.
Never.

eloquently stated.