Bannaí Fola 1

Bannaí Fola 2
Bannai Fola 1, oil on wood, 2016 copyright GPD

 

 

Bannaí Fola

Bannaí Fola

Is there anything redeeming in here?

 

I struggle with conscience… I don’t even know if I’ve ever had one.   I’ve never really gotten the whole people thing.  I look around me and see animated hamburgers doing their hamburger things like it matters.  They all seem so consumed by it.  And to me, what they’re doing more often than not seems completely irrelevant- utterly joyless.  Then, when I look in the mirror I see the same hamburger looking back at me that I’ve seen since I could recognize my own meat .  When I look at my fellow hamburgers, seeing their petty pastimes and pleasures as well as their soul killing routines and personal agonies, I grow more bored.  And while I realize that these animals, me included, are more worthy of slaughter and barbecue than any cow, I have the concurrent self-awareness that I, like the majority, am too intellectually, physically and spiritually lazy to do anything about it.  We should be food, yes.  But I’ve never been a hunter or a butcher so I leave those details to the professionals.  My meat will rot and fall away as nature intended.  I respect the cow… a representation of the sun goddess…  ancient civilizations had it right.  We hamburgers have just fucked it all up. 

I like to spend time alone… on my laptop or on the phone.  Helping hands built hell in an afternoon.  I get my dick sucked through a hole in this room.

Now, my soul is attached to a few thin strands connected to my meat.  It hovers just outside my borders in a parallel universe.  One where I sit, alone and comfortable, watching my life unfold, as if on a screen.  My soul’s an amber, hollow pod of light; the strands- now a shimmering network of light- tether it to my physical self.  It is miles above me, obscured in endless dimensional folding.  

My physical self is so far from me.  So far.  And, I can’t keep it from mouldering.

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