Moments...
They define life
while experience serves but to dilute it.
The beauty of experience is fear,
a state of life
lost in content.
There certainly is emotion in forgetting.
Life is the ultimate advocate of entropy,
questioning its existence
brings order to the devolved.
There is order in pain.
The spite of hate
exists to question
the privilege of living.
As if luck has anything to do with it!
We taste fear,
see life,
and listen for answers.
Our ears and eyes may deceive us,
but the palate preserves
the palatable.
I've asked for more
because it tastes so damned good,
chewing always though the burn.
It is a guttural understanding-
The one you don't dare allow influence
because you can't. Fucking. Describe. Taste.
The taste that can motivate you
is the same that can't
offer any relief.
It is, in fact, a thing.
Passion personified
is only an answer
to a question of passion.
And taste is but another question upon itself....
Pain, it is an answer:
the Real where ambiguity stays afraid and
ostracizes fate.
Ease is facilitated by the simple.
Hate actually lives there,
but no one has ever tasted hate.
We only hate to taste.
