In hot summer days,
After a nice cold shower,
With fresh fragnant clothes,
You lie down in a bed,
And your ancestry crawl up
Your feet and you hold
Them off at your knees,
But they spread anyways like
Snake venom and find
Their way into your gut
And then your arms,
And your heart starts
To pump blood, and
Your brain tries to
Ward them off,
The fear of consequences,
What will they think?

Wouldn’t it be nice to
Be a bull or a lion?
A full on animal?

Our nerdy ancestors must
Have implemented all these
Fears, to guarantee more
Chances for them.


Art is excess
A byproduct of
The pain caused by luxury/comfort
A cry for attention
A masturbation of
A certain class
Who seek truth
From a throne,
Or wish to reach
The throne to
Attain that luxury.
The truth seeker
Who fails to see
That the truth is
In the struggles of
The every man
The working man
The honest man,
The sweat, blood
And tears of the
Real man.