The world – if crafted right – is made up of explosions.
In the quietest moments, the thunder is roaring
And if you look closely
Every still life contains within itself
A fiery cosmos of raspberry flowers.
Pluck some of them if you’d like, to your own avail.
The magician once spoke to the thief.
“Which one is who?” he, smirkingly, asked.
“Fact’s: you are no one, I am two.”
And with that word, they both collapsed.
This life – if lived out right – is a stroll through a freak show.
No faulty coyness, you are here to enjoy
Fuck those that stand with their eyes closed.
Every carriage contains within itself
An unproclaimed Jesus with unscathed hands.
Let them bless you if you like, time and time again.