Inner consciousness never lies.
The initial inertia has got you thinking, now which way are you sinking?
Permutation of a life disorganized; your lightbulb is full of moths and flies.
Attracting the bad! Destroying the good!
You never know what to think
and you don’t think that you should.
The fruit of the fly digesting within thee
is just a commonality
to the apple of the eye crushing your reality.
You are a sign of the times; collateral damage to a crapshoot.
A sign of the times; a replacement until society reboots.
Your lightbulb is full of moths—dimmed at dark, at what cost?
Lightbulbs full of flies—Oh, how long your eyes rain,
Staring into a halogen fixation.
Kissing grace, on insect wings, full of flies.
The apple of the eye is closed, full of lies,
Turned to mush like the rotten petals of a rose.
The apple of the eye is digested
In enteral suffrage; your brain has left, it
Is full of moths, neurons activating
Full of lies, flies like these are multiplying.
Your lightbulb has gone dim; it will not shine again.
The fruit has lost its taste; only for fools you sing.
Who are you?
A master of deception?
Looking for protection?
The fruit shall rot.
Asking for an objection?
You beg of it.
A savior in jest?
You’re not the best.
Quite surely yes.
You’re a sign of the times; your mindset is a crapshoot.
A sign of the times; you need a spark to reboot.
Original publication: January 2021
Relevant: October 2021