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I see you for how you really are,
the ghost in the machine
invisible to consequence
the missing link between man and fate,
a dim reflection of what's to come
an audience of one pretending
that rows of seats will be filled
for a final bow
cut a cameo of love we'd rather forget
into a highlight reel, unscripted
and half-finished
static smudged pink lipstick
in between stillframes
I see plot developing like a bad habit
in dark rooms and white noise
invisible to consequence
witnessing metamorphosis born
from bad decisions, in the carcass
of conviction
I foresee what turns to be
a foregone conclusion.
drink your poison aristotle-
you know
it will make you immortal,
dead and immortal.
rinse your second soul.
i don't want to hear you die,
but i guess it can't be helped-
the people
will carry your new face
through the streets like crime.
and i will have to know
that you became eternal
while i,
the empire
that never knew warm water,
will crumble.
aristotle,
i hope your bones break like an almond
and that poison splinters your blood.
every king will wish you were never executed
because you made humanity realize
that ideas, never really die.