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Sharp Practice
Gary McGee
I have a fever from the commotion
Of elbows and brain stems.
Too many miscalculations.
I am the obsolete philosopher,
Spearheading the man-ear,
But somehow coming out the other side.
My fingers, blind as piano keys,
Type white-black, ignorant to the themes
Tattooing themselves to the page.
But the history of the world is burning.
Cognitive dissonance is God.
There is no use chagrining what hasn’t come.
There is only the twilight of wisdom.
The dawn of the dumb.
If ignorance is bliss, knowledge is pain.
But I will continue to fight.
I will wrestle gods until I have blackholes for eyes.