Beulah Land

It’s easy to hate it. It’s deceptively simple to pretend that you don’t. the light the light the light. Fortune doesn’t smile on you because it can’t. you made it up along with karma in a fit to protect you from empty hours when you stand slack-jawed like a corpse and your mind idles in the face of inevitability. change will not casually change you. the roots of instinct sit deeper than your arms can dig. It's like trying to bite your own cheek. you should bite off your own tongue. Violence does not exist. or it goes forever, but unrequited. In the acknowledging nod of your defeat from the room which you wear like a party favor out into a fog of lazy ambivalence. Give up this habit of waiting for time. Forgetfulness is a sin and a sea to throw yourself into pell-mell. Give away your stupid mantras. Dormant garbage escaping too fast and fluidly for anyone to notice it into the empty starless green grey cloud cover. The world will not end ever. The Rapture will not come because catharsis does not exist. we will go on forever in a dream in a dream in a dream. Of light of light of light. An echo of the muttering of an autistic collective conciousness. Melancholia, guttural throat gurgling distorted half truths. Nerve damage, leprosy, mismanaged emotions, drunken embellishments mistaken for heartfelt confessions. This trend of optimism will surely suffocate you all. Your life is meaningless and karma has forgotten you. Meditate on your sorrow until it is manifest across your chest in an armor of salt. Threats are useless. Pride is gaseous and consuming. Nothing is forever. But the aforementioned absolutes will never ever ever ever ever ever end.