I really should go….
But baby, it’s death outside!
My skin is cold like a dead fish, and the air is filled with chemicals- good ones that rejuvenate my soul, they make my heart anew my brain fills up with fresh blood as the body contracts new business from the other side of town, the bad side- the side that hates your skin.
I don’t like to say it, but if they don’t want to hear it- it must be that I needed to say it all along. Or at least that’s what the voices at the bottom of the can are telling me, like a fridge when I finish the last bite it echoes a further chill down my spine. Oh, no no no- This cannot be, that the freeze would come to me after my food depletes!
No more can I take this chill, from the lack of food- from the cuts on my tongue, the empty can- and now the air in my lungs. It chills my blood, and I lose sight of what is true, and that truth is that I do not know a thing at all or… Perhaps more accurately the truth is that there never was a truth, never has been a truth, there is only a series of probable guesses that leads us to an eternity imprisoned inside of a vessel of hate- bringing fires in eyes that can no longer be seen at this distance. Like ants crawling on my skin- I see them in the distance and feel their boot-prints as they step down that mountain, I see no eyes at this distance but I know they burn with a glowing white hot hate for the truth is all that they have seen and yet it is well known that the truth cannot be found on this plane of existence. Maybe it can, maybe it has been, maybe we are wrong- is it wrong to doubt we were ever? Maybe it is only the critical assertions that have been right, or maybe those believed to be set in stone long ago, or perhaps neither was ever an inkling of correct. Oh no, my can, my food, my mind, my heart, my lungs- all emanating cold dead life in this world. I dig a great hole only for my head, a great cavernous hole – I sink my head into that cold deep hole. I can feel it now, some new knowledge flowing up, from the bottom of that deep dirt hole I made, my neck contorted but my food all gone. It is here I was truly meant to lay to rest, perhaps in death the truth cannot find me. I rot, I sink, I multiply, I divide, and I decay. The worms eat me dead, and I become one with the dirt but the nerves in my system grow from my brain like the seed sprouting from a long ancient seed as it finds itself separate from my body into that hole- it falls- necromancers could not bring this shell of life to breathe again. But then again, if it was not that I could belong and that my brain was the seed to a mighty tree, why do the boots still make prints on this mind, I no longer see their hate, I only see the slight luminescence of their existence.
They don’t find themselves very interesting, and that was very true for me too- I found nothing interesting in what they did. It is only now when I have become completely one with the ground that I have finally found that I belong- and that none of them truly do exist. None of them exist, and that was the truth all along, it was only that I became the feeling living being atop a mountain of flesh that I finally bled real knowledge from my wounds- I did not see it before, but every bit that I bleed from my skin had some sort of grain of truth in it, or rather- lies within. I bled as a human long before, but it was black and cold- It was hungry and dead. Oh no, no- I hated it all so much that my brain would only become living now, when I could not move, but I could think so deeply- I could see so clearly from the eyes on my bark- forming the rings on the inside, each notch another dictionary- another glossary- bolstered with newfound knowledge and failing to find that any singular person was able to be away and dead from any of my beings. No no no, no no no! Oh why can I not taste in this newfound form, why can I not cut myself to bleed the knowledge, why can I not cut my friends to make the knowledge lesser than the funds that I was making. It was not that I could find something more or less than any other being, it was not that I could find anything that was greater than any individual being. No more could one become a greater ascension made of flesh than they could in death, only with a carefully planted brain could you exist again as a tree of knowledge on earth. Leave behind nothing but a stain of blood as you bury your head in the ground- like an ostrich and hide from all things that kept you down. I tried to bear fruit of knowledge on my death, I stand unwittingly as a pillar of it, I grow unbearably from a pillar of it- my fruit becomes poison to them. But to my joy, oh yes!- To my joy, they bleed true shades of red and nothing of black they don’t radiate heat- they do not radiate a thing- but it is okay, for the truth they see- even if my fruit is poison they can come and join me.
Join me now to see, my fruits of poison hanging from this tree I planted from the dead rotting head of mine which collapsed inward after starvation. Come partake in this fruit, these apples with eyes, pairs covered in hair, oranges filled with teeth, watermelon with various internal organs- take all and any within to bleed the true red from the flesh outside into the open- so full of vitriol and hate that it keeps you up at night. The truth so full of fear and disgust, so full of hate and regret from the moment you bight it that you can’t help but bleed in your true colors!
From this I will grow a forest of knowledge, a world covered in my poisonous fruit to finally become one in knowledge. They call me a plague, they curse and try to burn- but even in fumes I become airborne- I take root in lungs and rip brain from inside out, my trees will grown on your buildings, your cars, your lawns- your pets, you loved ones- the tree grows wherever a brain exists- and like a plague all become enlightened by one truth- the truth that color has taught me as color only could.
The truth we all bleed red, and we all see clearest when we all are dead.
My friends need to stop putting these weird ideas in my head about dying and growing into a tree of truth. I don’t want to die, just to test your theory.
June loves you, but the C*ult doesn’t, those shady people are going to say weird stuff about planting your head in the ground and eating poison apples- . June doesn’t condone any of that C*ult behavior.