We’re all shit
Some of us choose to fertilise
Others choose to be a foul odour
And you thought you were this grand and majestic thing, don’t be so ignorant, don’t be so arrogant.
You came from the excretions of two beings performing an act of otherwise vulgarity, we choose to veil it, call it love, grandiose it into a masterful artful exchange of physicality, a mutual agreement of references, contextual poles, shadour of acceptance, yes you came from that fake thing that ends when the deliberate race to expulsion satisfies all the lies with a moment of truth.
That moment, you were born, despite the lies. They lead you to believe you were utterly loved. You weren’t, you never were, you were chance, and the debt of chance never goes away, weighing on the shoulders of the gamers, the liars until they have the courage to pay you off, pay themselves off. They then pass that debt to you and if you throw it back in their face, they despise you, they sabotage you, they patronise and concoct, connive and sly against you. Pry and vie against you.
Separate I tell you, don’t be suckered into being a foul odour, fertilise, the earth is waiting, fertilise. Fertilise with your seed of love, but don’t make love a pretend thing, don’t make love and pretend it is grand, you’re just a beast like us all, a beast of shit, but fertilise, spring forth flowers and fruit, trees for shade, palms of dates and olive for oil. Fertilise and wait for your return to soil.