<p>click, click, click, click<br />
the cursor won’t stop moving.</p>
<p>do i have to try to have something to say this time?<br />
perhaps it would be wise<br />
to touch the situation<br />
with a bit of contemplation;<br />
however, the insinuation <br />
is that i am in defamation<br />
of this infernal damnation;<br />
oh wait i can’t say that is actually for sure<br />
when you turn around and wake up <br />
with a few characters staring you in the face,<br />
“why did you come here in the first place?”</p>
<p>i think i can turn it around and bring it down<br />
but the choice remains ever inexorably lost;<br />
does the choice choose to flee the realm<br />
of the long-harbored thoughts? a train away,<br />
a world away,<br />
a whole spatial ebb and flow awaiting the bits<br />
and pieces.</p>
<p>Try harder next time? (N/N)<br />
nah, kid, the streets ain’t ya home<br />
no, kid, the internet isn’t your home<br />
oh, who needs a home anyways?</p>
<p>I think you need to go back somewhere else,<br />
everything you write and say is bad for your health;<br />
toxicity, the density, all of the intensity, all of the<br />
existence feeds away into a small little funnel<br />
of a future.</p>
<p>regurgitated fate, point me away<br />
to the reason of the day.</p>
<p>five, four, three, two, one:</p>
<p>once upon a time, there was a child<br />
innocent, naive, and so commonly mild<br />
like another person walking on the streets<br />
but i don’t like to talk about<br />
other people, anyways. such is<br />
how it goes; a child was born<br />
and a child would live, leave, die.</p>
<p>growing up, we adhered to the morals that we discovered<br />
inside our own selves, sticking to the reality that<br />
we all created, a facade or not, whatever the thought<br />
that remains, is the name of the game: satiate and placate<br />
until the defense has made its case and can litigate,<br />
mitigate all the hate and state the reasons it can stay,<br />
appropriate the rate of its fate into a little heart shaped box<br />
left on the counter of your dreams.</p>
<p>there’s always a note inside, and the scribblings,<br />
the xenoglossic etches of a self denied<br />
are oft to be found glowing on the inside of a soul<br />
illuminated and ready to escape the self-inflicted lifestyle.</p>
<p>barbarians shrieked their cries across a world;<br />
so too did the civilized,<br />
just the manner evolved to a new expression.</p>
<p>Elimination isn’t the agenda; escape from<br />
the subjugation isn’t what we planned to do,<br />
but to be so subjugated was not what we<br />
planned to do at that; preliminaries were passed<br />
and we were left behind to explore alternatives<br />
to acceptance.</p>
<p>I explored another fate, but it seems<br />
that there were better doors to choose;<br />
making the best of a bad situation,<br />
what else have I to lose?</p>
<p>so insert the coin and start a new game<br />
like this life will go on, we’re in the arcade<br />
defenders of personal opinion,<br />
offenders of discourse and admission,<br />
suspended reality.</p>
<p>Think twice before you type,<br />
or maybe even once, or not at all,<br />
who truly cares what’s in your mind?</p>
<p>ego loss is the crime of the century.</p>
2009-09-24T18:41:03-07:00
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Imitation Brand Irritation and Strife
2010-03-10T23:20:20-08:00
2
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