Dearest people, of who I do not know.
I sit in a false state of comfort, with my legs bent in.
All I hear is the staccato of Chopin churning chaos into beauty.
And this makes my eyes lose sight— all I want is sleep.
Calm air pours in the window from a place I cannot fathom.
Oh people, what are we doing with such things, just things.
So much bicker over contrasting colors-
All colors, all variances, all the same
Life should be simple, pick no fights and sit like a king in an oversized chair.
But why? To eat grapes.
To live, to die? To have meaning?
To remove all attachments from things that cause suffering
-things that bump in the night
Maybe I can nail my ego to a piece of wood and smile…then cry.
Or just ramble on, head against a wall, burden of existence, yaddi yaddi yaddi.
Futile. Fool. Drool. Hand me a Bud Light please.
Can I build a bridge into the future
—remove my self from the plot twist of the third act?
Absolved from sin by time dissonance— just pixelated pornographic peaceful bliss.
Oh people, do we have a future, or am I just crazy & lazy?
Does all this burden sound like an echo, an echo that rings eternally—
for people, for time, for space, for all…..big bang, ad infinitum.
Did caveman squander happiness too?
Did he feed his babies poison, because a flock of pigeons told him in a dream:
“yes, do it. Its fine. Everybody does.”
Is it perverse to strip away my outer shell— exposed and free?
absorbing the universe- simplicity and purity. Like a rock.
If I was, only so lucky.
Oh people, how do we measure our tragedies….?
Death count? Resiliency? dollars and pennies? ……a shrug- repeat.
Do souls get stacked or piled?
Machines are always so meticulous and clean—
shiny and distorted, like the american dream
Oh people, with your virtual things and your virtual life…..or, in short: virtue and vice.
Do the shackles feel snug? Is it easier if I pat you on the head,
‘Oh, there there. This is how it supposed to play out….you’re winning’ YAY!
Oh people, can you ever wake up if you forgot you were dreaming?
PINCH…did that work? Did those people really die? You know, the children, and the
TERRORISTS— horns, hooves and a spade shaped tail.
Does it matter if my eyes are brown or blue….
when do I roll the dice and pretend I am ill-fated to be ill?
Is the dice weighted? Can I bet against humanity? What’s the payout?
Does it come with steak dinner?
Oh people. Oh people.
How I love thee!