in house

consciousness

seasoned perfectly

it is a delicacy, existence

  

poisoned specifically,

we become something different

  

now the fire burns hotter

the shadows change randomly 

reality tastes different

  

now the purpose loses meaning

  

and then our human finds their animal

once again

unseasoned 

Author's Note

Reviews

[Michael Sun Bear]

As a Sufi, and a life-long spiritual seeker, I know we are souls temporarily housed in an earthly body. Last night I played a documentary to a friend which profiled temporary death experiences which also document the same, so it’s interesting to read your poem this morning. Apparently we came to this dark planet for spiritual growth, but watching the race of humans be at their worst who would know it?

[ThisSiteSucks]

yeah
.....................

[Davidgeo]

Turbo existence on that rock n' roll cocaine... you should see me play music under those conditions!

[ThisSiteSucks]

yeah? what do you play? The skin flute?

[Davidgeo]

You're too kind to me. Even though I hate you, it seems to me that you still smell like a terrific person. And no, I don't play the skin flute... pervert.

[ThisSiteSucks]

sorry I swear it's something I heard and thought it was a real instrument