You Shouldn’t Have

I am no gift giver. If anything, the practice should be strongly discouraged. We are doped up on a heightened reality that removes speed limits near school zones. Discernment turns into a blur as the fragile parts of our neurology are shocked into a weightlessness of benefaction. No matter, take in the opium smoke of this generosity until your head and feet switch positions. It is ultimately well with me. Though my natural orientation is slow and deliberate, I will oblige you with signaling checkered flags. Close your eyes to commence the drag race. I want to give you a darkness beyond religious experience and nightmare. It is a darkness that surpasses the kind that frames stars. It is a darkness that scrambles the honor due last names like alphabet soup. It goes past visions and madness into a gaping mouth that devours number and shape. Even a parliament of owls are shaken the ubiquity a new impenetrable midnight that crushes navigation. Welcome to uterine glamor. You are at the very beginning of indetermination. All of your choices, be they artistic or economic, are oppressed by a spectrum of light that is no more. Your iris is only a birth mark on a body with no outline. Every origin story knows this fearsome place of tar and pitch. Dive deeper into a moreish hue until your mind breaks apart. There is no forgiveness here, but be of moderate cheer; there is also no sin. The foundation of foundations has kissed top of your hand. Will you dance with an an imperception so beyond opaque that a risk of forever inhumanity hangs in the balance? Were drums of Arctic oil poured into that realm, you would perceive it with the bright glow of magma. Context must swear by something greater than itself. It owes it's power to set without sets. And It is this darkness that I am able to show you. My sweeping noir is free. There is no sticker price to scratch off. So remember before you lock eyes with me at the Yankee Swap, we are not the same.