Untitled #2 (6-3-12)

Aware you never were not,
feeling in your heart was never absent,
living fever in your soul was ever clearing you.

What thing lives in the universe without feeling,
what could it feel like
to not be you?

All the masses who's adulation you deserve
still muck around trying to locate you
inside their own prophecies and pockets.

When they find the truth ever pulsating
with passionate amber light you'll giggle;
If they don't notice you then
the world's a bastard
but its mother isn't a whore.

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