Unhurried, from around the corner, out of doubt

Unhurried, from around the corner, out of doubt Slashing consciousness as with a razor. The mind, under the sway of chanting, Choked on its own prayer. Choked so badly it got sickening To take joy in simply being One must believe — the rest is false. The flesh is sinful — ugh, how gross. Bombastic pathos and a pretty slogan From glossy pictures, nothing less. Sell any organ that you like. Go on and trade, sweetie — maybe luck will come. If you weren't born with looks — don't grieve Look a gift horse in the mouth — what could be worse. No ticket — sorry, shove over. There's crowds like you — like the Hermitage in summer. Even more — the world, bent over, groans. not under us — under a few from the clan. These are in frame — the rest in the background, like a supporting actor. And it's not exactly a lack of talent. It's more likely the wrong road. The world will bend on Atlas's shoulder If everyone believes — at least a little.