To Those About To Define

I am a fractal

And all life is shapeless energy.

It exists in motion,

In a flux, or not at all.

Emotions are like fire,

Easily felt but hard to grasp,

Constantly in motion,

Never simply happy or just sad.

We’re all non-linear,

Even acting like we’re whole,

Pretending space is flat

And that basic shapes exist.

Defining us in terms

Of euclidean simplicity

Is an insult to reality

And the complexity of our souls,

Our being, our essence,

By any other word

Is too broad a subject

For your dismissive unambiguity.

No pill or prayer,

No final solution,

No common sense parable

Or well-meaning lie

Can fill in this space,

Open to interpretation,

Of dimensions vast outweighing

Your shallow view of life.

 

 

 

 

Corpse Conscious

Visceral reality

Blood, muscle, and flesh,

All elements of the body

So palpably aware.

A carnal revelation

In litanies of pain

Written by dissection

On cerebellum walls.

So pliable and weak,

So simple to restrain,

So sensitive to touch,

Manipulatable and soft.

Do bones of the starved

Congeal into demons

To slake their thirst

On our living blood?

Do hordes of average men

Yearn for satisfaction

In the sight and feel

Of our mangled forms?

Should I desire much

To be just a ghost,

An incorporeal dust

Just floating alone?

And how would that soothe

The screaming I hear

From a younger sibling

Whose cat ran away?