debris of false temples

alchemy manifestation
blending of the self
with universal secrets
intended at one point for deities

what is the point of existing
says higher self
if not to figure out how to blow your mind
over and over
and yet
lust really is not sacred in certain contexts
let the average human
sort his or her way through
the debris of false temples
the ocean of insincerity
awaiting us
when we cannot sense or see
know or feel
touch or heal
those we
foolishly put on pedestals
above us
above the reproach needed
to knock down
the arrogant
the inwardly secretly spiteful and bitter
with the glory of fame attached to their name
names played over lips until something slips
revealing character flaws
that break certain laws
and it is then you see the claws come out
and parade about
for all to see and fear
where were we?
the context of lust. the mirror collecting dust
you remind me
of the temporary nature of this
and we laugh
until tears form
gathering the strength of a storm