another class poem

too self-centered to be suicidal:
"if you take me away, what is there?"

with a pure love for his physicality,
the question of death will come up differently.

what drives this logic?
shunting blame.

a remnant of the nobility
will have to take up an occupation.

a question of responsibility;
can it be a question of comfort?

he doesn't have to worry about social conventions.
but he does.

he can't really pick up his pen.

written during class with words from class its called Against the Grain

celebrate what is man made over what is natural
modern muse of impotence.
accumulation of lists: tiring, exhausting,
a barrier around oneself.
inter-breeding,
incestual poetry,
never-ending mimesis.
boredom: the effeminate father of all vices.
rejection of the classical, the Christian, the Enlightenment:
an inventory of decadence.
lavish indulgences can only temporarily relieve this boredom.
sodomy: another exquisite pleasure.
being fed up the ass: against the grain.

god is truth.

relativistically, god is about truth.
the characters serve their own type of good.
that's what the author does.
the same words over and over again.
he hates his immortality.
the cat just hangs out on the cover of the book.
obvious nonsense.
caesar wasn't eternal. he wasn't even necessary.
believe in the state, fundamentally.
but you can't really put your trust in the truth, anyway.
do you even know where it is?
give it metaphysical content, this creature.
have a walk on a beam of light.
he has light, and the master has peace.
there's a difference.
the narrative transcends life.

<(*-* <)