the human dream
balancing on the thin thread
of moloch atomic fire
fueled by the scarcity of evolution
it just couldn't have been
any other way
for the gift of progress
forged from competition
will never rest
whichever direction
it cascades.
No bravery or caution
or planning and intelligence
can control such force
unleashed by the very binding
of this universe
and to know this or not
makes absolutely no difference
or sense at all
and all the sacrifices made
and all the things lost and gained
to disappear instantly
with everyone
and no one in particular
to blame.

And the cancer may have spread
And World War 3 is trending on twitter
as long-range missiles from America
are allowed to hit Russia further ahead
and the chemo will be booked
or the RPLNDee
(Retroperitoneal lymph node dissection)
which has a nice round 5-10% chance
of preventing ******* forever
and Left 4 Dead was what nailed
Half-Life Episode three
this calls for a celebration
and it's not so much the *******
that I wanted
but to feel that weight on top
as we both embrace
and feel
and after the kisses
and my hand caressing the goosebumps on her thighs
and her squeezing and moaning
and the release
there is of course a brief lingering peace
and we talk until the time is up
and then the time is up
and I leave
and the rain starts
and then a pink blue sunset on the Öresund bridge
but not before I passed by Gasoline Grill
with some fries, please

adulthood is fighting for innocence
looking for it
rediscovering it
desperately holding on
longing for what was
before it was done
each day slowly forgetting
each day a step away
some lose it faster than others
some never look back
and the girl says all this
confidently facing the camera
pleading with the world
that she found a truth
worth sharing with you
but the truth is nothing
if you cannot reach it
or keep it
so now we both stare awkwardly
at the screen
not knowing what to do next
she presses the button
to stop recording
uploading
and I flush the toilet
wipe, wash my hands
and think about my adult life
and the innocence of taking
two hours
having a date
with nature's knife

today the orc
was caught in the field
the drone came flying
he couldn't outrun it
or hit it with the bag
the explosion made him fall
the multiple wounds visible
the overview drone zooms in
blood and fragments
and the last gasping breaths
before death
agonal breathing is the term
and even from the distance
one could see the eyes fade
and a gentle regret
as he became waste.

today the orc tried to hide
under water, on a small muddy stream
the drone drop seemed to miss
at first
but the fragment hit him
somewhere in the brain
and like a turtle on its shell
he lost control
and drowned on that river
no deeper than a meter.

today the orc heard the drop
on his trench, ran out
but it was too late
and half his face
was blown off
as he squirmed
blind, hugging his knees
a sitting fetal position
confused and bewildered
such ended his mission.

today the orc gave up
dead comrades all around
he lay against a dirt wall
held the rifle between his legs
end of barrel aimed at neck
confirmed the safety was off
and off he went to nowhere
nothing gained and nothing lost
a waste of time for us all.

today the orc hid on a puddle bank
lying very still, holding his breath
the drone above already locked-in
his heart must have raced
with adrenaline
like a sick game of hide and seek
but when the bomb dropped
on him
and he was split apart
between the gory as ****
the heart was fully exposed
beating normally, if a bit slowly
the wreckage of Man
from a rubble of flesh and meat
I thought, something must be wrong
with me
as I watched all this
on a subreddit
but not as wrong
as the orcs
providing this twenty first
century content
on my phone.

lifestyle routines
workouts and diets
parenting styles
eating this then that
the idealized climate
an endless conveyor belt
powered by algorithmic science
its all a trap
an evolutionary cul-de-sac
where dreams go to die
and death is born blind
dead ends served on a platter
to end thirst and hunger
perfection perfectly presented
for comparison to trigger action
and the illusion of unhappiness
with the present
so you may move up a ladder
and you wonder why you're unhappy
frustrated, with anger
a comparison to fiction
robbing you of your anchor
as you set sail when you can't
swim, dive, or even float down
stream.

there is a timeline
in which I'm a father
to a six year old
in this timeline
my grandmother doesn't annoy me
with grief and sorrow
every time we videocall

there is a timeline
in which you did not break my heart
several times
in front and behind the back
with the secrets spilled
in your message chats

there is a timeline
where we never met
where your smile did not infect
me so badly, and the promise
didn't flower fully
and I never got lost biking back
from your cul-de-sac

there is a timeline
in which I never came here
escaping recession fears
with a promise of opportunity
as the prime minister
gently invited us
to gently leave the country

there is a timeline
where I stayed in Spain
rooted, secured, in my domain
confident, arrogant, insane
at least, slightly more than now
an art in the simplicity
of someone who couldn't comprehend
when each branch was splitting
and a new reality
came.

writing is awful
its torture
its the most lonely moment
having written is great
exhilarating
the most grateful moment

and I am not the writer
and you are not the reader
we are participants
equal

and I am a narcissist, egocentric
and you are greedy and tempting
me to give so much for a small
chance to be remembered
to be enjoyed forever
and forever is a long time
so I shouldn't complain
about staying up
so late
and anybody can write
yet somehow it's my turn
tonight