Tuesday, July 25, 2017

the sacred and the comic, what a cloud

everybody knows, you're written in her book.
 the symbol of the mirror was forced
she's going to smile to make you frown, what a cloud.
 as signifier of owned bodies as spectacle-for-another
she's going to play you like for a fool, cause everybody knows,
 she's the guise of own narcissism, what a cloud.

the self-help groups extract, she thinks she doesn't need
the ideological tension between between body and machine.

i thought of you as everything i wanted, but couldn't keep

if i could make the world as pure and strange as i see
the mirror is in front of me. mountain top, millennial pink.
*linger on*               *your pale , blue eyes*

some child's voice, not mine, pure nostalgia, in
time before poetry read like lilo on a bender, taken
for advantages, even by    *i skipped my life completely*

i'm learning to lie better, for you, with improvements, i'm sure
it was good what we did the other day, the fact that proved that
you aren't my friend