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There, good.
I have gotten your attention,
either because you think I’ve got something to say,
or because you enjoy random skirmishes of poetical graffiti,
or because you clicked on some link on the internet
without really knowing what you were getting into.

It doesn’t matter.
You’re here now.

I pick up my pen to blow your mind,
but it turns into a hummingbird
and flies from my hand
and sits on my head
and makes fun of my stretch marks.

I go to my laptop to change your life forever,
but my fingers turn into earthworms
and they slither outside
and sing “Lee La Lay, Lee La Loo”
on the grass.

I have nothing to say about life,
for my mouth is made of life.
It sprouts holly and pine needles as I speak,
and the cheap Buddha figure that I bought at Aldi
laughs his goddamn balls off on my desk
like a douchebag.

So I guess I will spend what remaining time we have,
while I still hold your attention,
simply sitting with you
and looking out through your eyes
and wondering what this strange world is
and wondering where we’re all going
as we spin off into the future together
on this weird little ball
in a black, pregnant ocean.

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Thanks for reading! My articles and poems are entirely reader-supported, so if you enjoyed this piece please consider sharing it around, liking me on Facebook, following my antics on Twitter, throwing some money into my hat on Patreon or Paypal, purchasing some of my sweet merchandise, buying my new book Rogue Nation: Psychonautical Adventures With Caitlin Johnstone, or my previous book Woke: A Field Guide for Utopia Preppers. The best way to get around the internet censors and make sure you see the stuff I publish is to subscribe to the mailing list for my website, which will get you an email notification for everything I publish.

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I write about the end of illusions.

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