I am the tightrope spun across the abyss
I am a becoming
My life is mine alone to risk
Mine in overcoming
Contradictions that sit uncomfortably
Within the ravenous mine
Hollows of impregnation
Sunyata – the pregnant mime
‘Others’ will always eat off finer tables
Devour more beastly feasts
they have every right to do so
Forget your envy – for it is misplaced
Who do you see in those projections?
Certainly not the interior of those souls
Whose images we desecrate
In our demolishing hunger
For more distractions
Other lives to lead
Whilst these tortured ones
Go around thinking that
Because a mass of lost souls
Responded to the pain in their work
That they were somehow above
Existential angst.
What angst must it be though
That forces one to annihilate
One’s sacred privacy
& authenticity
By inviting the world to
Look at you
You forget to really
Look at yourself
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