Sept 8 2019

bungee binging The Good Place
this witty inventions peeks

in the window, like a pop-up ad for
imaging software,

hmmm, tune to white
noise and
shift into this aural or otherwise
sense
it-
ifity. We-ness, us-ness, eplurbalus-usem,

y'all. Nobody cares, but we all feel your pain.
Still,
waiting is, is all we made sense of,
so far
,
but nexts are super-positioning as we speak,
think,
write-read, right (and the feeling of asking per

mission-- like is this thing broken --- but no
it worked) right.

Wedom, rhymes, in rhymnals.

Freedom wisdom dom dom
doh minion!

How happy could you be if dying, the act,
you all dread it; but ever,

the idea, ever.
think death's sting is ever lasting?
Once again, ditty dumm dum ditty

when was ever was? Was ever always

pain, no shred of a strange charm

to take the pain away?
Pain, you imagine evermore or nevermore,
either you imagine one

or the other. Ever is a long time to imagine being happy, and though, although, actually,

ever is in progress as,
dammed definition rule. Who agreed to these
logos therapists

redeeming idle words that stink of chaos as

extreme as ours, here,
in our bubble of being, imagining we
effect
this or that, by taking thought,
a mere qubit past the

tip of your tongue.