Ego in Disguise

Fluffy-white thought bubble like a cloud
filled with the motes of your being
turbulent, thunder-headed
crackling in ideas – it is you, your mind
you cut it off
call it God
whatever better object for veneration could be found?

You adore you
in love with yourself
you tie yourself down and fuck you
put yourself on top, and then invert it
The Lord rides cowgirl
now you are its
made in the image of…
flesh become a reflection of spirit

And we wipe the crust from our eyes
look around anew and see
all our neighbors – so many worldwide
are, like us, enamored
by that festering dark smog
a noisomely smug vapor
putrescent in self-aggrandizement
to keep it fresh
people come together
mingle their stinks
deodorize in lavish rituals
a sprinkle of water
a burn of incense, a swing of censer
this way and that – pleasant smoke rising
freshening the collective God of collective conscious
safely again, smelling sweetly
we go down on it


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