Montaigne Foxcroft

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A High-jacked Mind

Tossing and Turning
What is the point of anything if this world will end up burning?
We turn serious matters into a joke
To some folk the air they breath
Is the thing on which they choke
The book of life, so to speak, specifies not to be "unequally yoked"
Does not this same book read that love bears all things?
Where is the line, who's to say that we actually understand the construct of time
Or is it just the sublime
That tries to undermine free will
How could one know that our free will is nothing but a routine drill
Thought out by some god to bring him some sort of fucked-up thrill
Am I just a puppet who will never get to really choose?
How could I know that humanity is not just God's cardiovascular or circulatory system keeping him alive
and if you fuck up, all your existence turns out to be is a bruise on God's knee
But isn't god without any fault?
Can a creator be spotless if his creations are constantly guilty of assault?
I want to scream
and wake from this dream
Are existential crises
Even more pain-staking to a Pisces?
Is this even possible if I know why I am essential
I know why I'm here and my dreams are bright and crystal clear
But how do I know
That my life is not just some dramatic TV show
Watched by god before bed every night
And what if my life comes to a halt every time he shuts his telly off?
Then I guess my brain is just used to this simulation I'm in
Taken back to yearning and learning
Is there a maximum capacity as to what I could learn from another being?
What if the love I receive is designed to deceive
and I experience euphoria
But that's just a side effect of the dopamine my brain is releasing
Is common ground then even a possible thing?
How could I know
I could never see me through your looking glass
I would never wish to trespass on your heart
But I always try to refrain from putting up a facade
I want to be the company you keep
Chances are you've asked yourself many of these questions
I bet you see beautiful images dancing when you go to sleep
Your mind is a brilliant design,
I find.
A recurring thought I have: you satisfy me sexually to the point of ecstasy
Even more so, intellectually.
Oh boy.
I'm just taking it easy
Lighting a jointski
and thinking freely.
Maybe these thoughts are pre-ordained.
Planted in my brain so they would distract from the truth...
The truth according to whom? The creator's truth?
There's little proof of anything
State of mind: aloof.
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