The Myth of the Real

I don’t see the real anymore
The view is skewed
The lie’s too real and in my face
Everything tastes like the market
It takes a shovel to dig down deeper
For every bit of breath
For every kernel
For every salty swallow of the true ocean
The pinch is mandatory
Branded
I saw a copyright in my sleep
As the dream’s been sold
And the lie is told
The petty have the power and they wield it like carpet bombs
But I was born before the bar scan and can run naked in the night
Free from those sunless lumens
The guiltless rads of uncouth sands
I can still taste the loam of unsullied earth
I can still taste the blood from the blow
I can still taste the new wine
I can’t see it but I can feel it in my bones…My genes…My soul…My marrow
I keep the real, with zeal, in my heel, to feel, when I reel, round the keel of my meal
And I am unbroken.

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