In The Name Of Faith

In a world divided between religion & science

Each often holds their high grounds

Locked in the privilege of their ivory towers

Convinced their ways are aligned closer to the singular truth

And yet the bastards raised in degenerate whorehouses

With questions as their only companions

Despite a hundred thousand frowns and promises

Knew singularities were acts of faith, dichotomy the only true consequence of reason

Religion says believing is seeing

But then how do you believe something you haven't even seen

How do you vest your beliefs in a faith so ultimate and yet so fragile

How do you let the hollow insides of a spineless truth swallow you whole while you lay down the very existence of your species at its mercy

Science says seeing is believing

But then how do you explain purple, something you see and yet it never exists in truth

How do you let your biology take the wheel when you know it's been compromised to illusions, and convinced into gaslighting you, every single day

How do you let the misconstrued interpretations of an alien truth blindfold you into a cage of singular perceptions

It is rather funny to see the elites tumble in their incessant need to cling on to faith like creatures of convenience

While the unsophisticated sharp-tongued morons give shape to the singular truth the elites hate the most: to watch their faiths crumble, and drift away, from right beneath their feet

In a world where science and religion sell for equal stakes

Order is blasphemous; chaos, the way of life

Of Fucks Given & Taken

Have you ever wondered how the truth of intimacy isn't half as intimate as the idea of it

In the shallow breaths of a gasping anticipation to the screenplay of a fornication, you've played over and over again in the boner of your brain cells

In the folds of an inexpensive adulthood rented out to the suicidal moth of an innocence, spent at the length of faded words in a worn out erotica

In the flimsy skin wrapped around the throbbing veins of your measured thickness molly-coddled to a perverted sickness disguised as desire

Have you ever wondered how orgasms are a commodity

How the stretch marks laid out across the breadths of your skin like stitches on the only blanket of a homeless, aren't aligned to the aesthetics of desire

How your ideas of sexual gratification revolve around objectifying fiction born off Photoshop & cocaine that is as distant from human anatomy as Communism as a practice is, from Communism as an ideology

How you constantly dwell at the crossroads of the duality of fucking the ones you wouldn't jerk off to and jerking off to the ones who wouldn't fuck you

The next time you think or feel, even for a fraction of a second, sex isn't political

Peel off your clothes like masks off a creature of convenience, and dare make love to the other side