August 23, 2011

  • Exponential & Technological (EDIT)

    the technological paranoid schizophrenic

    & his cloned nucleic acids

    are dangling from the tips of tweezers

    transmitting light into

    perpetual surges of brainwave euphoria

     

    like cat eyes darting in strange patterns

    as the fissures of bulbs become crispy black

    their remnants left maneuvering 

    marble to marble

    curving along worn rings of gravity

    congregating from oblivion

    into a perfect homeostasis

     

    yet the crowd is now silent

     

    their fingers grasp at screens

    with delight that terrorizes pedophiles

    as the skin peels 

    its own invisibility & irrelevance apart

    flailing itself up and down

    amongst the clatter of dramatic acts

    all buzzing with a surge of electricity

    roasting their nasal cavities

    filled with old sentiments

    and other olfactory nonsense

    seemingly remembers

    that no one interacts with any divinity

    whatsoever

     

    it's a queasiness that only loneliness

    can reveal sewn from a thousand pieces

    of evolving concepts

    eroding in Chinese villages left with nothing

    but acres of hardware infinity

     

    where 

    cosmic/chronologic/absurd

    nano-weirdos vainly propose

    ashes resembling the height of culture

    these bands of misfits wholly hypnotized

    by the sheer fact of shoes

    worn and unraveled by the truth of it all

    while digitized voices drown in their own ambience  

    not anymore interesting

    not any more possessing of

    the innocence & intangible 

    than the truth that I bought

    so here we are

    left to stare vacantly into blackholes

    while exquisitely prepared meals 

    are left to cool, soften, decay

    with glowing waves of information 

    a strobe light in childhood homes

    the promise

    so young

    so real

    so gone

     

    but still they sit upon their capsized boats

    murmuring songs and conversations

    offering themselves everything for 

    absolutely nothing

    but hands peeling & sore

    gripping an oarless paddle

    in the Antarctic abyss

     

    sitting still

    whole conversations turn out to be:

    an internal hum of baseless mediocrity

     

    the fog swarms the galactic coasts

    its snowy coat billowing across 

    highways

    its mouths

    like a gurgling stream 

    left to propel too long

     

    tiny fingers dissipating into piney trees

     

    frozen in the defaced alleyway

    muttering softly

    indentured to each other

     

    too much left to say

    to deafening ears