Cave
The light that emits from my computer screen
Asperses shadows like a music box projector's
Ceiling diorama—
They spin around and around,
Swirling in the aleatoric symphony
Of indetermined notes,
Ingeminated until I fall asleep—
In my mind.
I don't want to look up,
I don't want to look up,
I don't want to look up—
Because if I do,
I might realize
That where I am,
Hooked on the O/S
Of terminal attachment,
A besotted addiction
To buzz words that rattle me from my consciousness
And quake me through the cracks of the pop culture lifestyle.
I only see a ventose orator,
Up at the pulpit,
Preaching mediocre thoughts,
And banal blah blah blah blah blahs,
And what am I learning here by reading this?
Why
Do I read this?
I could do other things with my time,
Couldn't I?
No, I'm chained to the carpet I'm rolling over,
Burning my elbows into scabby skin ash,
Peeling away my sun-burnt arms for no reason
Other than to watch what I can't see or feel.
My nervous system is shutting down,
Each synapses is becoming indurate,
So I can feel like a sponge—
Which has no nervous system, by the way—
And soak in
Whatever
Boastful basking
I choose
Today,
Or some meaningless news story that says,
"Studies show" without giving links to what that study is,
So I can verify that the information is pertinent
Of just taken out of context the same way Fox News
Will splice through all the words they found in a dictionary
To form a single, not always complete sentence.
I think I might surround myself with all these empty
Activities to keep myself from feeling empty,
Telling myself how stupid everyone else is
[...] Read more
poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
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