Transparent Reflection

These eyes don't see the object, but instead the fabrication.
These ears don't hear the ethics of your moral infatuation.
This voice, it speaks for the gods; perched overhead with a glass of wine,
staring in from outside this realm; the headquarters of mankind.

This heart races with dilligence through the mysteries of life;
Amphetamine discrepancies painting over internal strife.
This mind; stung with wonder; pushes past the open grass,
the basis for injustice, and the influence of the past (isthepresentisthefutureisthepast).

These hands can't touch the sorrow of the security-inclined.
This cunt can't bear the beginnings of the standardly-defined.
These lips don't kiss your placid smile; they rape the maniac inside(theexternalliningreflectingallemotioncombined).

a scientific blueprint to a nihilistic mind.
the catastrophic unit of the cognitive assembly line.

Annihiliation of the first person view,
of this mystic life cycle; both rustic and new.

Abomination for the absence of truth,
arrogantly ignorant and blissfully amused.