They Always Know

somehow,

the experts always know,

they know the when,

they know the how,

they know the why;

they make knowing their

life ambition;

they know why Sylvia put

her head in the oven,

they know why J.D. disappeared

into the remote woods

of New Hampshire,

they know the truth about

gods and other man-made,

self-taught, traditions and

myths;

they know better

than friends and family,

they know long after

knowing has ceased to matter;

egotistical bags of pus,

charlatans of the deep,

keepers of destructive dust,

purveyors of lost lust,

grubby little cock roaches

grasping at forgotten fables,

they know it all;

they know nothing;

just one clear breath,

sensitive and deep,

truth beyond the

know-it-alls and

self-imposed experts,

just one small glimpse

past the illusion,

no reasoning without honor,

no philosophical babble

rising from the decay,

no self-righteous,

self-serving

bullshit;

no how,

no why,

no when,

no knowing;

only cool, quiet thought

within the madness.

.

.