The game, the crow and culture.

All the ghosts from your photos
Are inside here, I point to my head
A gun, that only extra 8-bit lives could toss
A sun, cancering all of us dead
Beaten, battered, burried and beasts and birds all converge on my queen

Of clubs I speak, a deduction based solely on my thirst
Obvious intention of getting close to you, noticed by your ego
Obliterated, never even the chance. You can't Google Translate my first
Opening into your visceral spine. I'd die for a chance, I'm like a crow
Pity you feel, pits you wish for me, peasant I am in my own garden.

And at least I tend the garden, I visit my inspiration from time to time
Pety references to actors, bands and little trivia you find in books
I think, I live. You only keep inputs, where I connect dots, don't frown at me.
Do you know? That I can sit with you at a table and have you remember what never happened?

My nature is natural as yours. I don't hide it with books, I write. I'm ignorant, but intelligent.
Your "culture" is fanatic, it only gives you hormones, it only gives you acquaintances.
But your mind rots. Because nature doesn't care if you don't care. You ARE nature, don't deny it.
Like an old building in Cernobyl, your structure holds on, but you let vegetation overgrow you.

And nature thinks "Oh, this is not solely my work, hence it's ugly". You're ugly.
Culture makes you ugly. And laws keep you tied to your condition. Don't believe me? Love me!
You can't. Why? Is your answer inside one of the books you've read? Sure it is. And plus, I could be sitting in the dark, typing, feeling alone, and you would never know I was here.

And my mind, I mean me... keeps thinking.... GOD, STOP BEING INFORMATION!
We both run. We run, run run run run run. Give in to your pathfinding machine you've turned your brain into. Study what I say, is it going to help? Is it going to be "culture"? No. You won't find patterns. You won't find content relevant to your life. You will refuse to think, see beyond yourself. And this is brilliant. I am brilliant. Every word that I wrote, and it pains me to say... it's genius.
AND YOURS ARE TOO! IT'S NOT ABOUT information, it is about nature. Human nature, nature nature.

Skip a line, fall in love, live. LIVE. I don't understand what I wrote, I don't need to. Maybe there is NO information. No God, no love, no nothing. 

Are you just going to move on? 

Ask.


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