skept

sometimes most times are times
that are all the time, when
the words make no
sense, as if
mr. potatohead
was an actual language.
woe is me, decrepit polyglot
autodidact, who
fancies a supposed intellect,
but still,
discernment is veritable
as far as
differentiation of information
is concerned. so i'm concerned.

reality imposes, no matter
how much our thoughts matter.
empire of the empirical.
but this flouting of objectivity!
to think you are a huge magnet
for the most beautiful force
in the universe, which you take
to be truth, just as LeRoi said.
and everything
makes sense where you want
sense to be made. or is it
selective observance?
ask mr. potatohead.

you truthers, you deniers,
you false skeptics, naturalist
holders of the utmost value
for all that is nauseous
about free thought. it's
only fair then. i am
no absolutist, however.
i absolutely detest
the epidemic of idiocy
these days.
sometimes
most times are these times
when i am all the time
reminded of fallen towers
and nefarious clouds
shrouded in alien conspiracy.

thus, i seek sedation.