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Ego in the Dust.

Violation as recreation
as perceived from both ends?
It’s all so fucking confusing
till you enlighten me,

dear voice in my head deafened
by all the valued chatter,
muffled by viewpoint mayhem.

Cut through the clutter and find the gem.
Dig till you find the golden peanut
buried deep in the steaming
pile of fly-infested bullshit.

Escape your head.
Ego in the dust behind.
See passed your own eyes.

Permission is key.

All the difference in the world
is found in the presence
or absence of consensuality.

Boundaries, thick or thin.
One way now; then, different.
It’s all about the individual

crossing a bridge, a manifestation
of a signed contract,
a bold declaration of mutual consent.

“Fuckin’ liberals!”

Just passed my index, a digit
held high and proud as my salute
to the herd, so cocksure
that majority rules.

What about those fundamental,
inalienable, personal freedoms?

To each and every,
the right to their pursuit of happiness:
so fuck you.

I grant you no control.


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