One of the few places where you can escape the tech is the sauna
Its just you, the heat, the meat, the sweat
The bathrooms used to be such holy dens
Where you could sit at peace on the porcelain throne
And oversee thy kingdom flow down the drain
But people started bringing books and magazines
Then consoles, and now phones
There is no peace left
Just brief distractions
And even if you just use those to try and relax
Someone will complain you're taking too long
Can't be having any fun or peace
Can't be alone for too long
We'll all suffer together
And drag everyone with us
As we get flushed
as someone else's
brief distractions

All the pretty beer bottles on display, and the distinguished kids going in for a drink
Inferno used to be a falafel joint
With the cheapest falafel in town
Nineteen crowns
And they would give you a free sample while you waited
I guess cheapness doesn't stand the test of time
Even if laced with kindness

That tree is my friend;
It's a quiet friend
In a way,
But speaks more
Than many others.
Or rather;
It speaks differently.
Then again,
Maybe not.
For if its sounds
Come from the wind
Passing through
Its many leaves
Perhaps so does your voice
Come from something else
Passing through you
Which was not there
And you don't control
You might have more in common
With my tree friend
Than you'd like to admit
But that's okay
We can still be friends
Anyway

How seriously
Do you want to know the time
Because I will seriously
Look it up
If that's what you really want
And even if this
Sounds rather unserious
I will seriously help you
If only because I also know
How unserious one can get
When that unnatural feeling
Of time running out
Envelops one's mind
And yet we could just simply
And unseriously
Ignore the time
At all

Funny how simple choices go
When you stand between the wall
And the sword
To risk suffering or die soon
That's as simple a choice
As they come
They don't make them like this
So often
Anymore

simulacra and simulation
the performance and the stage
as we jump from platform to platform
seeking connection
authenticity
genuineness
briefly, we bask in such light
before the masses arrive
and change the economics
that makes fakeness profitable.
With each new cycle
the jading creeps in
latching like a limpet
thus no matter the waves
we poison each new sea
in this beautiful theatre
sinking reality

There's me
And everything else
There's inside
And outside
And just a small thin layer
Keeping it all separate
Except, perhaps
The layer is made up
And we are all made up
As these words float up
As your feelings grow up
And this dust does not settle
Is this cheap or a petal, instead
Can you afford to consider it
The thought, not the flower
I mean. Though I suppose
Both are as beautiful
As they are expensive
When you really
Wrap your head
In deep.