Lies we tell

we have been laying on her big bed by the window for days, during which I've seen nothing but random snowfall, clouds, planes, even some sunlight, and heard nothing but the rising and falling of the traffic with occasional ambulances and helicopters making their distinct sounds. 

she has not said a word since she asked me to come over, though I've had her communicate through crying and biting and such. there's not many like her around anymore, that being people who only speak when able to stand behind whatever words uttered. I know there's something important, big, that's lingering above and around this void she has let herself sunk into.

she turns around and presses her oily cheek against my chest. I adjust myself to hold her, and run my fingers on the soft skin of her back. I see her phone blinking silently on a tabletop across the room, something it has done countless of times since my arrival. I cannot believe the battery hasn't yet run out.

my hips and my back hurt from all the immovability this being present has required, and I haven't been able to sleep anymore in hours, or since yesterday noon to be accurate. I guess it is some sort of a limit of mine that's crossed when she, for the third time during these days, manages to gather strength enough to try to climb up from the whatever void by sinking her teeth into my skin.

I force the fingers of my left hand into her mouth and push her down, pleading for words from a pair of closed, wet eyes. and so she sings.

since I was a kid I thought

I was the one who is crazy

here in this society marked

as being the quintessential

height of human evolution

but now I have understood

without being proud in any

way that I am not the crazy

one here but it is the damn

premises we have accepted

as our very ideals that make

us but a bunch of loon tools

I see from your eyes that you know what

makes me speak like this and I know you

are born wise and I am born as a damned

fool who has to learn everything by being

kicked in the face by that everything and

believe me I have no idea why I have not

released myself from this ferocious realm

these past days have shown me that all great systems of thought

are nothing but us trying to explain ourselves out from the damn

equation which assumes and is correct in positing us as a scarcity

on this planet in regards to us being the one and only species into

an extended suicide together with a very rare mentality screaming

out if I am going to vanish then everything else is going to vanish

with me because nothing matters but consciousness and me oh me

I have not but the experience of my very own consciousness so let

me just do my work and live my life and feed my kids and jerk off

can you show me where do I fucking sign

to sign myself out of this equation and be

free from the shared burden of idiots who

are being fed day and night the identity of

a lethal cancer addressed as the consumer

hello destroyer of the worlds

the great consumer of... stars

 I know there is no form I can sign and I have ceased also to believe into a liberation stemming

from the inside and thus being reflected or shone on the outside because that is just how them

tools have for thousands of years explained to themselves why they need to have meaningless

jobs instead of really looking into what is it that makes us all feel deeply sick inside because I

as the dolt I am have reached it and it took only some years to finally catch the deepest internal

conflict by the balls and it stems from the understanding all of us have inside about the need to

exist in this world as an integrated part which functions only in respect to the rules of harmony

and oh do I understand whims

manifested by suicide bombers

because I feel the same when I

think about all them idiots who

speak about genes as if they're

speaking about big differences

and the worst thing now is that I see where this path is taking me

and the next question will be whether or not consciousness as we

experience it has developed to serve as a tool for a class of beings

who are here for no other apparent reason but to use their assumed

powers to create not for noble ends but the birth of a real death star

because how can we be
such dumb fools if that
dumbness isn't a quality
serving a higher purpose

when she pauses for more breath I do what any of us tools would - kiss her into a quiet tear smeared oblivion. as far as I am concerned, all this is known and well understood in a deep level within, and yet still I, nor the majority of them who I've come to know during my life, have not killed themselves. so... what's the point in singing about these things?