Thursday, September 15, 2011


I got this friend: when we were kids we would roam around lands pockmarked with the discernable sound of copper wires hung roof bound
We would pretend to run away and look for refuge in the concrete walls
10 ft tall, iron gridded, and covered in color coded vestiges with what I suppose had more meaning before

You see: you and me, we were born into a world geared up for emphasis on important things measured in abstract means and transmitted on some type of realm slightly less than physical

And a part of me apart from me believes in something biblical...
I guess I should have been baptized in waters slightly less unbreakable

And as we got older the world got colder and kept warm by a bunch of meaningless fire resembling
something like language

And the chatter invades my mind with every breath
linking the physically vacant and breaking the presently dead


And so we roam around lands pockmarked with the discernible sound of multi-synthesized wires hung
above our heads
And we don't pretend to run away:
We run away in our heads with leafy green and brass that gets too hot to hold when you apply open
open flame forged from plastic and not natural
And I choke back the bile that comes from my throat after I send something burning down it because burn and bile is superior to empty presence especially after so much burn when the only thing I
have to worry about is staying upright on my front feet.

That is simple.

Every night I go to bed with a floating head and a spinning room is a night I'm not resting on isolated
 ones and zeros

Because it is not a good thing to be well-adjusted to a sick society.
No, the mark of your character is not how snugly you mold your words and hands into flexible and
    cold systems running on logic


It all lost its footing sometime when eyes focused on pixels and binary instead of breath exhaled and
    physical embrace
But everyone pretends that it's all so profound -- interconnected but physically broken

And but it is said that at least there is meaning; at least there is meaning

I can't breathe with those words on my mouth

There is no meaning to something set up where the concrete is measured with the abstract
That's not meaning

So we'll fuck the meaning out between us and lay lonely together because I'd rather fuck someone ill adjusted to a fucked world than pretend that its smooth water I'm sailing on

Breathing is hard when I'm breathing in more than just air.

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