Necrophilia.

Does this thing we’re doing to ourselves,

To who we were and who we have become,

Feel a little like necrophilia?

Mutilating the corpse, history and. memory of our former selves for unrequited pleasure,

Fucking our own dead bodies,

Set to stone with rigormotis,

Cumming into nothing,

Till we are left with nothing.

Until we resurrect,

Seek till we find,

Knock till it opens,

Ask till we receive,

Where have you been?

Who are you?

What is your purpose?

Do you know your gospel?

Do you own your imagination?

Are you there?

Or are you here?

Can you hear me?

Because its already a Thursday in December,

And neither death nor silence is enough.