False Prophet

A bizzare, surrealist experimental poetry performance I created in 2012.

False Prophet, Chapter 1: Blood and Water

What happens when a being is forced into the light? The very first time an infant cries, they are choking on red and clear and shades of life. The mother is mad with emotionlessness. She could care for the pain, and love the lacerations, but all that would accomplish is feeble. She keeps fighting and working, sometimes, more often than not; it is accepted that there is nothing that could be done. The variables are endless, but the outcome is always different most of the time. It almost seems like fate exists. Cruel destiny holds onto the grimy reins of life no matter what. Do not go on what others say. Find out yourself. However, become spontaneous like a chicken. Disregard that simile, it was meaningless in the grand scheme of things- let us rather say “like a non-sentient being.” I beg your pardon for the Earth-exclusive references. Penetration is most often practiced here (which is strange when rubbing should be preferable). Big Brother banned orgasms while Little Sister created a pleasure machine. Hell is not the only non-existent place where moaning is constant. Doing something, for no reason immediately, instantly, is the most beautiful thing we can possibly do. Do anything. You will prove fate wrong. Bleed on an infant. It will do the child good. Spit on it also, the child needs something other than familial fluids. When tears fall all you can do is let tears fall. Continue on with the senselessness.

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