Doubting the Question

Of course I hear the demons. They talk and talk and talk. Prostitutes with fat asses sitting on them.

Immunity comes in early morning stutters and is gone by darkness. What's to want of anyone, let alone the dependent. Plastic tits flaunt her chest in shades of ken dolls searching for a condom.

I don't know why. since his penis is missing.

The moments bide their time whoring door to door. For dark chocolate. Any evidence that they still belong.

I'm just counting. Is that wrong? I'm just counting gods. One at a time. Until all are unmasked.

Stubborn sheep in the dreams of men who can't sleep whiteout a little bit of drug.

The truth rising to the surface. Lighter than what's left of the meat. And we skim it off in thick chunks. Fists of cholesterol warning us to listen.

The truth is obvious. But we can ignore it. The truth is everywhere except where it belongs.

I had arrived at the amusement park only to find the monkey riding the same roller coaster.

Letting it toss me. turn me upside down I decided. the monkey knew what he was talking about. When he said the snake was just an excuse for the evil gods must do. When he admitted it has to be darker in heaven now that it's full of so many liars.

The monkey's only the beginning in a long story no one wants to tell.

The apple still waits to be bitten while we search for our teeth.