God Damn Floating Whore House - Poem


Here we are on earth, and you audience are some hoes.

Yup, you fuckin prositute yourself for no reason other than to satisfy a primitive urge, and not primitive as in simple, but primordial, definitive, dominate, and ever present.

Most not getting a return for the effort beyond the cascade of neurotransmitters.

Gross.

Very very gross, on a rock flying through space spilling personal fluids all over each other.

Well some of us.

Some of us are personal hoes, self loving, or deprecating depending on if are nice, I personally say the masturbators whom will never touch another's flesh in pleasure are horrific simulations, simulacra of us dirty little sons of daughters.

Then there are the mothers, the whores of earth, pushing forward the race by taking in the emotions of men, for food money and this lie called love.

Did you forget you are a sac of water flesh and chemicals, love is nothing different than anger, and you realize always after being angry how irrational you were, why ignore the same thoughts when the chemicals of love pass?

This is why this planet is a hoe house, no one is really doing anything for themselves it's all sacrificial touching of the flesh.

So as this little ball called earth floats through space, we pretend our dance isn't strange, this is how we sign the contract of prostitution, we pretend.

God damn floating whore house death is the navigator, and we will all die, leaving our dibbles and fluids to swirl and leave generations to do the exact same.

God damn floating whore house death is the navigator, will none of us live, will none of us be able to reach the alchemical ideal?

God damn floating whore house death is the navigator.

#poetry #nationalpoetrymonth #2019

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