Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

Roaches of truth

He hunches in abeyance.
His body, a useless cavity
That suffered ablation
At his disregard.

While nothingness rose like
Steam on sh(!)t, he walked
Into the phantasmagoria
That had him plauged
With roaches of truth.

Diaphanous in nature, the
Insentient never shows the
Colors that made him an
Outcast on the flux, bringing
Static wherever he ended up.

While he wanders, minions
Representing death remind
Him of how lilliputian he
Truly is, kicked out of
Shangrila and placed in
A shell meant to destruct.

But an experiental shell,
Ready to destroy but waiting.
In the night, he travels from
City to city, plotting the
Usefulness of humanity and
Becoming an existential hero.

January 6 2010
 


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Roaches of truth

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