We are all plugged in to this box I want to unplug it
But they won't turn it off
Do they not yearn for the voice of their own desire?
Why do they want to stay constipated?
Why do they want to fill themselves up with others
that capitalize on these empty and desperate creatures?
They are gluttonous and fat with filth
yet they whine that they are still hungry
just dragging their heavy corpses
content with the task of waiting for their next meal
Opening their mouths wide
closing their eyes to what they are being fed
Reciting other peoples' clichÈs
I PRAY THAT I DON'T DIE OF BORDOM
They lie there content like pigs in slop
Yes, surely my spirit would be calm
if I would only be content lying in the filth as well
But I can't it's unbearable. I have gone too far into awareness
preferring that I see through my clear lenses
I don't possess the luxury of believing my own lies
How I envy those pigs
How they possess the ability to allow poison to pass through them