Culture ★★★★

there is nothing in us that is pure
we are not sweet distilled spring water
we are sacks of seawater saline
it is blood that churns in our veins
we are constructs of acid and bile
we are filled with living and dying
and house tiny things in our breath that devour
that move and need and perish with us
and we
well we like to fight
and fuck
and our culture metastasizes
and breathes
and tries to call down the future
but we also are a thing
that loves
that is altruistic and laughs and dances and makes art
and poetry
not despite its impurity
not in spite of a selfish ruthless nature
but because of it
because we are fragile imperfect amazingly inadequate shells
so strong and so beautiful and so capable
of really anything
no, sterility inhibits potential
my body, my mind, is no white sheet to keep from getting dirty
every now and then