Show me the philosophers
Where do they hide?
Come out and let us drink and talk about the darker sides
to life,
to you,
to I.
Where is the space for philosophers in a group of friends?
They’re the ones that drink whiskey, and sleep when the sun–
Until the sun, ever rises again.
The one’s who aren’t afraid of anger, of tears, rage, sadness
because honestly, if you’re not disgusted with this world are you
even fucking alive?
Open your god damn eyes
Jesus Fucking Christ
And we fuck this, and fuck that, and fuck our friends,
naked and screaming but will make sure you cum again
and again
and again
They’ll inspire and make you feel alive,
and in an instant you’ll be questioning “Why?”
They’re the ones who would rather die than fake a smile
shallow politeness and shallow positivity eat them alive
Let us talk about empathy and how Positivity kills us all
And those who label emotions as good or bad have a special place in hell
Come out, fellow philosophers
And let us dream while the moon is full
Plan trips to nowhere and scrape out our skulls
Lay me barren and exposed, hands dig right in and rip out my soul
For God is Dead
And I am full
