Hunting easter eggs in December,
and yet they seek me out instead.
i never find them at my pace;
standing, drunk, outside familiar
bars in the cold, randomly
dialing number combinations
to hear whispers or silences.
Radio wave transmigrations
they are, a look to the
past, a nod to the future,
a moment in stasis
where the keypad blurs,
doubles, focuses, blurs,
and i am lost one more time.
Crackling...
clearly static, the white noise
of separation, the
(hidden)
message
bro ke n
a
p
a
r
t,
perfectly human, but alone.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 9:14 PM UTC
Hunting easter eggs in December,
and yet they seek me out instead.
i never find them at my pace;
standing, drunk, outside familiar
bars in the cold, randomly
dialing number combinations
to hear whispers or silences.
Radio wave transmigrations
they are, a look to the
past, a nod to the future,
a moment in stasis
where the keypad blurs,
doubles, focuses, blurs,
and i am lost one more time.
Crackling...
clearly static, the white noise
of separation, the
(hidden)
message
bro ke n
a
p
a
r
t,
perfectly human, but alone.
