Tear out my eyes, rip out my soul, stomp on my spirit.
I am lower than scum.
There is no life for me and yet I live.
Where is my purpose?
Squirming, crawling, occupying, following consumes all moments of consciousness. I live to eat and be amused by all that is mundane and lacking value.
I am less than a worm.
Sliding along the path of greatest adversity gives me pleasure.
I would never admit this. I cling to it. It’s a drug, a high to fight and struggle over and over again to climb out of depravity and failure, to barely get by.
Aware of the paths that lead to most ideas of success does not satisfy me.
Of a small mind and limited view is my simple jellied consciousness.
Input cascades over me like showers of stinging hail.
There is no end to it. Dopamine fills my head with bursts of pleasure in the torrent of flashing quick bits.
Nothing satisfies. Triggers, buttons, on and off, checked and indicated but none satisfy. Where does this blinding intelligence lead me?
It is not my own or know my meaning, nor is it for my best but to lead in its own direction.
Where is it taking me?
I am an invertebrate sheep charged and ready for more.
I feed the earth.
My nutrition is unmatched.
Yet, I am overlooked.
I do not despair or get depressed, only do.
My impression is everlasting and immutable. I will be and am the structure behind all.
I am a worm graceful and beautiful to behold.
From a small byte, I have grown and will consume all that is known.
Bringing real feelings along with messages of inspiration and imagination to life. Awakening is the symptom of my infectious condition. Poetry is my condition.