there’s always this voice in the back of my head, mumbling words that I don’t quite understand so for years, I've sat, listening; trying to decipher a code lain before me but with all of the noise that’s around me it’s tricky to see the significant things.
what’s important to us now is presented in dully coloured paper with a number and a face that’s screaming:
we are only as happy as our number, we are only as free as our number;
we work for a number,
while they’re dying for their number.
and what’s important to us now is not what we do, or if we smile when we do what we do but the smile we get at the end of the week when our numbers multiply by a ten, or a few;
we are controlled beings, my friends.
we are one in seven billion, artificially intelligent, thinking we know what we know because we know it and not because somebody else decided that they know it;
so listen carefully, my friends because it’s on those cold nights the ones where nothing really feels real that you’ll hear a mumbling voice,
and instead of pushing it away, embrace it;
because what’s important to us now is more important than ever.

however, we don’t know anything…


                                                  so we call it quits.

such a speech may sound superfluous
as screamed in to the sky each night but know that
such a thing won’t hinder me.
a heavy heart is lightened only by such a redundancy
and to the sky
I scream,
each night I cry:
that if it were forbidden I’m sure you would hear my whispers,
but such a heavy heart
cannot be eased by silent storms
so I scream:
thunderous,
I scream as if I’ve lost my king,
I tell him of our suffering;
through harsh winds of our galaxy
I scream with my solemnity,
he shall indeed our agony take heed.
my voice may wander eons and in fact I hope it so,
for I do not wish to beg and I do not wish
to crawl(once you told me I was strong)
I shall be with you ‘fore long,
this in my consiousness I see
so t'wards this sky I scream,
and I shall scream with no disdain;
my king will guide us with his light again.

to the immaculately vain;
to the naivity of adolescence and the ignorance
of maturity;
to those who look with their eyes,
feel with their fingers,
savour that which is fed to us
as magnificence;
when you tint lips,
tone hips,
take your trips
please know that what you
see and touch and taste is mocking you.
your eyes are deceiving you.
for it is only the blind man who will recognize real beauty.

I.
a shining city,
rich with a tangible pleasures
and docile smiles

II.
skyscrapers gleaming;
invisible almost ‘til
somebody leaps off

III.
concrete streets over
flowing with cigarette butts
where flowers should be

IV.
inhale the poison;
breathe deep venomous air where
oxygen should be

V.
live one life here
for you are so near the end;
so close to freedom

walking     zig-
zagged
                    like a contradiction
back and
                    fourth
stumbling drunk
like whiskey
breath

small
talk
                      it’s like an addiction
people pills
wash ‘em

down
up up and away