Homemade (day 279)

Homemade in the ethical sense of the world
In the sense that pulls at our sleeves
In the sense that reigns in the whole body
Lets go the ruthless edges of sanity
Into the most repulsive, otherwise ordinary
Seemingly positive, but cordoned off
Regions of my mind
Regions of my body that lurch forward
With the thick scent of another blown anatomy check
Pitted against the random notes
Of unfamiliar strangers
Pitted against the sanity
Of the only race regarded for their treacherous
Angles of sacrilege
Don’t trust the empty can
Don’t believe in the full one
Don’t listen to wise words
With half the mind for progress
Feel the homemade ethical sprout
Feeding deep within thy soul
Feel the sense of the world
As you bend down and look deep
Hold your hand out for the mother of the age
For the senseless wonders
Each and every breath takes from you
With baited breath
Like the newborn kicking for air
Stick out your tongue and bear it proudly
Bring back the novelty in the insane cruelty
Which latches itself onto the rounded
Edges of your hourly wage
Survival of the fittest
When the homemade and ethical dribble
Fall, and the sprout of our progress

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