i’ve been burning for weeks
in an isolated network
of synaptic circuitry
pretending to be flesh and blood
welcome to the desert of the real
infinity hung up on us eons ago
we hardly remembered to call again
somebody fix the phoneline please
somebody give birth to light again, somebody
at least shout really loud about it
so there’s something to focus on
other than lousy poems and visions of glorious destruction
my head is a bunch of balloons
held by an anemic child whose grip
fails to understand the importance of
never ever letting go,
whoops, it happened again.
goodbye flat ground, goodbye
suspension of disbelief
regarding the absurdity of eyes,
goodbye illusion of normality, goodbye
conventional reality, i’ll send
you postcards from the void, you bastards
never let me get too far anyway
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