
Drunkenness and dirtiness is a sad rebellion
an impulsive loop to downward spiral,
and kiss the dampened Earth.
In other words, I lay face first in the dirt.
My lack of care is a political message.
This obtuse peculiarity is a protest
to the mundane.
This strangeness is in stark opposition
to enforced normalcy.
Don’t tell me what to do!
Who to love!
How to live!
Where to fuck!
I partake in a self destructive orgy
of hedonistic glory.
I will not be a compliant soldier,
but bite the sergeants balled fist.
Chew off the reaching arm.
Empty the grasping hand.
I annihilate productivity as
a fuck all to capitalism
and a call back to simplicity.
I do less.
The monk meditates, and
the anarchist re-assembles.
Revolution needs the revolutionary.
I am both people, I am all people.
Somewhere, the middle way is near.
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