Devil you.

Devil me.

DEVIL ANXIETY.

 

It’s four in the morning.

Can’t sleep,
out of pills.

No one’s called since noon.

 

Mara me.

Mara you.

Mara sleeps at Xanadu.

 

The Anxiety Equation begins with Why: (y)

The Philosopher’s Alibi.

Solve or be Ouroboros,

the ancient snake,

and forever eat yourself.

 

Stay awake.

There’s still some light.

No time for sleep,

walk on;

The Oxen of the Sun are drawn.

 

Devil you

Devil me.

DEVIL ANXIETY.

 

Go out to lunch.

Meet someone new.

What would Jesus do?

 

Get some money.

Be a slave.

REPEAT.

Ouroboros is obsolete.

 

Go to church;

hear the sermon.

Stay for mass.

How can you see God, at all,

with the devil on your dash?

 

Then don’t bow before a God;

don’t bow before a law.

You’ll bow before a bottle of Tylenol.

Devil Anxiety has us all.

 

Wake up.

Scream.

Do something;

make it stop.

God is dead,

but not forgot.

 

Eat.

Sleep.

Repeat. Repeat.
The Ego eats and eats.

Then get a beggars bowl,

and shave your head.

Buy a saffron robe.

Mara’s beautiful in pantyhose.

 

There is no oasis,

just another drink machine.

But don’t they sell the same thing, all in

all?

Refuse to rise;

refuse it all.

Just watch the Babble fall.