Fuck no, not right now, not in this tired condition,
when I’d rather
stick the swine with a dagger to the side,
bleed the pig, rip the hog asunder,
and feast
on the flesh
of all the damned spirits
that were driven into the sea.
I’ll dive in after,
swallow the ocean whole, and
suffocate to the point of asphyxiation
just to get a little high
on the most rarefied form of alchemical combustion
that flows beneath the waves of the murky depths.
I’d suck dry the shadows
just to bleed the light to death.
I’d fill the needle with mercury and cancer
just to inoculate an entire generation into a coma.
I’d piss on the grave of the State
just so it’d drown and resurrect stronger
with a Nietzschean will to power
that slaughters the minds of all those
who are still innocent enough to care
about trying to fight the system.
I’d stick my tongue down the throat of the Beast
and lick clean the toxic kidneys, the bloated liver,
the calcified glands, and the ruptured spleen.
I’d sink my teeth into reason
and burst logic’s bubble
so that all hope for clarity and sense
scattered across the four winds of chaos.
I’d slit the wrist of faith
and fuck it down the drain
in a whiplash dive
to the undertow apocalypse.
I’d silence the sound of laughter
with a zero-point trigger finger
itchy with a patience that long ago
ran out of fuel for compromise.
I’d…exhaust myself
of all the angst
until a glimmer of peace
pushed and pulsed
up through the muck and shit
to reveal a rose
budding on the far side,
springing into new life,
changing every dead vibe,
and bringing me back home…
to Source, to Truth, To God, To Light.
Selah,
Scott Thomas Outlar
