Life is a pack of lies.
Success stories thrive in press releases and art school propaganda.
Reality languishes in sewers of spiritual meat.
There is no meat in America’s hope chest.
Grandiosities torture your neighbors, humiliate a city’s carbon footprint, dry paint on fingernails of gingerbread boys.
Most of your friends do not know their food is cooked in laundry machines and their clothing served as feasts at times of famine.
I Saw You.
I saw you sitting alone in the parking lot,
laughing to yourself,
laughing like a comedian who has never told a successful joke.
I thought you would be better off staring at a Laundromat,
- staring into washing machines,
studying lines on the faces of people
reading books and magazines while
they wait for your clothes to dry.
Show me a man whose life is not built on lies and I will show you a pillar of fabrications.
Is not every sentence articulated by every sheep of the field a continuous flow of deceptions?
Is there a single sentence you have uttered this day that did not contain lies in its heritage?
Are you not merciful in your examination of truth when the depth of falsehoods knows no limits, not even in childish fantasies?
Give me one society that is not built on lies and I will hand you that society in return, fully formed, fully flushed down history’s unwritten toilets.
Everything is lies. All mannerisms, all expedience, every expression of love or disdain is rooted in profoundest lies.
The jester’s lies pass through press releases and history books unscathed, unquestioned.
The fool’s lies pass through small talk and anger with honor and conceit.
This universe is a spiraling hole of deceptions.
You begin your day with fabrications, pass your days in emptiness, end your days with voiceless whispers of continuous self-deception.
