I am more than just a face.
Or am I?
With thoughts that flutter,
and a deep
sense of self. I breath.
A point, a plane, non-essential existence.
Who is my messiah now?
Talking snakes, fish and rules. Rules. Rules.
Or the ape. FLUTTER ME AWAY.
Let’s await that day where earth
is engulfed in flame and we
were all wrong.
What will be our skin colour then,
more than veins.
I am death – to face this world
of impurity.
My god is better than yours.
Let us fight to the death.
We are deluded. You will not be saved.
I will not be caressed. He was
not made to tussle hair
or kiss lips.
– by SaryWalrus
The Walrus Room 