What Enlightenment Feels Like
For my sanity
Your contentment is an illusion
Not to say your existence is bullshit
But it’s hardly reality as it should be, or rather, as it would be.
We all have heard some persuasion
of what manipulates us, it
Isn’t hard to figure out that what they tell you tricks you isn’t true.
That was complicated.
It comes down to this: you’re lying to yourself
By saying they’re the ones lying to you.
What is love? In commercials it’s the estimated
Value of shelves upon shelves
Full of gifts you don’t really need.
Then why the fuck do you have them?
Because someone told your love
You needed stuff to fill a void they just can’t.
When you hear that, some nimble
Pain flickers through you. Yet most of
Your memories of compassion are things.
And you liked it.
Didn’t you? But now you’re denying
The ‘truth’ of compatibility.
Let’s try another theory. Quit
With consumerism move to no more lying.
‘We are always honest with one another’.
Love is trust
It’s tying yourself to a spiraling plane and saying they’ll catch you.
Once they catch you, they fuck you.
Because fucking is loving
Or making love is fucking
Like we have conveyer belts tied to our pelvises.
This is where it’s coming
From. You may not lie to them but you are lying
To yourself. We made up love because we wanted something.
Wait what?
Don’t kid yourself, this isn’t a break through.
You know it in your mind but you lie
Every time someone fucks to you, what do you think about?
No really, what do you THINK about? Love? Trully?
Romance? Seriously? You’re kidding.
Love is sweating, over-heating and shouting?
Swearing and beating; tearing and ripping? Clearly
I’m missing something.
This means, to me, that love is duct tape
tying a pretty little bow around no.
This means, I won’t let anyone love me again.
Hells bells, I guess I’m all out of love. Rapio,
Rapire, to steal—I can’t belong to you because my hearts a no show.
She’s a little preoccupied with a sticky fingered asshole.
Once you’ve been robbed, on the street or in your home—
You don’t trust anyone. And love is trust and when we fuck
We’re making love—and I don’t wanna do that anymore.
No I don’t wanna be alone
But what choice do I have? Out of luck
Since I was disillusioned.
To keep your spouse, you have to stay good in the sack.
Wahr? Ja, because if you’re not you’re not worth it.
They won’t waste their time with you.
Why is my vagina a prerequisite to caring about me. I lack
The perspective to give two shits.
The fact that my service to you is a deep fuck makes me sick.
Here’s where it all comes together
Sometimes we see past it, that to them,
We’re just titties or a living breathing dildo.
Then what do they do? They buy us a sweater
Or a watch, a locket, stones and gems
Attached to chains and, maybe, if we fall for it, a ring.
These are dowries of hush up money,
And we do direct deposits to our minds.
‘They can’t be using me’.
Why? Because they dump money into you?
Because they’re willing to invest in the small business
Of regular sex?
It’s exchange and your payment is due
Romance for sex, bobbles for sex: the list of possible trades is endless—
I hope you realize you’re a prostitute.
That’s what disillusionment feels like, bluntly
I can’t say I have sympathy for your kind.
Ignorance sucks but enlightenment is hell.
To me, your saying, “but I’m a good guy” will never be enough.
I know you believe that, but you’re probably wrong.
You’re too corrupted to understand your limits.
But I know This is really a bluff—
Not an ultimatum
Because the first thing I would do is violate it.
I can never ‘settle down’, cause that means skirt up
I can never ‘fall in love’, because I’ve fallen to far already
I can never ‘tie the knot’ because the cherry
That was once attached has already popped.
I felt the climaxes of my story line and I was just sweaty,
And thoroughly unimpressed.
Contentment is an illusion
Think I’m crazy yet?
This is my reality.
I can’t have my illusion back, my conclusion
Is that someday I’ll say, fuck it
This isn’t a tragedy.
I have the wheel here
They tell me just hold on but they need to let go
Because I don’t know how to be one with the illusion anymore.
You don’t understand, yet it’s so clear.
I can’t show you because I can’t get close, no,
I’m not worth it if I don’t, but worth in your world is a joke.
Be happy with your illusion.
Let him fuck you, and then give you roses. Do trust falls: they’ll catch you.
Lean back, and close to your eyes and let truth fall: they’ll catch you.
(2014)
As an asexual with an uncomfortable amount of life experience, this poem speaks to my suffering in the realm of human connection. I have written much on the topic, and will continue to do so. Other people's ignorance is my muse, more often then not, especially if their ignorance actually convinced me to play stupid myself. Enlightenment only comes from disillusionment, meaning that one had to of once been illusioned.
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