If you give me long enough
I could paint a vivid portrait of myself
with every blemish and pore behind a brush,
and hush the voices that would criticize
unsubscribe and dance it up over in wonderland with the sycophants

put on my bedazzled pants
let the local singles know I'm a dancer
just a beating heart away
From being another square upon a lattice
a writhing mass of hair gel
and cologne working up the ladder to fuckboi status

Imma walk the line between
a marble arch eclipsing the sun
over an angel statue kneeling in prayer

and a black leather boot clad
bad *** with bad habits
but he's so cool he doesn't care

Look at him go
all on his own
with only a thousand or so, little paintings  
that are equally as photo shopped or filtered
just floating around waiting to see the show
and letting other people know they liked it
or not

What a spectacle destined
to leave us senseless and restless
what a test of the patience to be a slave to the masses
to see my juxtaposition against the rest of the best of us
and think "I should go with clever with glasses."

What a brutal twist of civilized life
to have an AI made for driving my car
so I can shimmy down and sneak another **** pic
THROUGH SPACE, to some guy who works at taco bell's wife
Laura something or something

I'm so social
What a medium,
Exchanging ideas,
and hunting body heat from out of the ether,
to have the pleasing distortion
of the speakers
drowning out all the wearisome noise
of our contortions

"You gotta learn to love yourself"
She says, and posts another photo
buried somewhere under 60 layers
of dog noses and rainbows, and angel wings

Oh **** this isn't boyfriend material let me change some things

-
You don't ever need to change girl,
there ain't anything, in this world
That I wouldn't do, to be with you.

And the Brief exchanges we had,
didn't reveal any red flags,
that I am willing to skip on *** over.

So somewhere down the line,
when the filters start to fade,
we'll just kick that can down the road,
and neither of us will change.

And the picture's that we painted of our Love
will degrade.

It's not a mobile or desktop jibe
I'm simply asking you to unsubscribe
From every bit of crap you see
For every URL you key

Scrolling through pics and words does not make any sense
The urge to stop... just so tense
The flashing screen with made up stories
Is nothing to celebrate, there is no glory

Let's unsubscribe.

i wrote you poetry
i applied my soul to your heart
i gave my body for you to bend
i gave you my left hand

if i never see you again
it will be too soon

if i forget your name
it will be memory well wasted

if i learnt my lessons well
it will be tears well shed

the brevity of you presence
is a speck in my life
and cannot undo
the luminesce of my colours

you will not be missed

The gods of my mind
Feed my spirit moondust
And I float through
A plastic purgatory
Everything rushing past
Absent, gone,
Blissful detachment
(Until reality forces itself inside)
I take a bite of my life
Bitter,
Like the moon.
I find the worst things in life
Are free, as I stare above
At stars and other people
(With the same pain as mine)
Searching for an angry fix.
The stars are just broken pieces
Of glass stuck in
The machine- cut night.
I bite the feet of my confusion
To keep it from stumbling
As I drown underneath
The upper hand.
Bitterness on the back of my throat.
I unsubscribe from my own mind
Because I don't get it anymore.

Concave
in the early morning
sun streaking rays
over
empty hearts
empty stomachs
empty bones
and I listen

lawn mower mumbles
motor groans
faint siren yelps

        what is fullness

a dog stretching long
yawn
withering
breaks and aches
brown sheets
black dog
purple walls

years have been spent
learning how to suffer gracefully
with cliched humor
bleeding sarcasm
and a mouth full of synthetic words

and we all suffer
distressed
I see anger bandaging wounds
sadness assessing damages
grief losing hope

        helplessly watching

ignore me
it's easy.

young hearts are reckless
a car crash
broken glass
glittering and stunning
can’t help but
reach out
and touch it
still startled when it cuts
blood bubbles to the surface
like hot springs

please unsubscribe
unfollow
hollow
how low

late nights
patterned sleeplessness
hot air
cold thoughts
sweat glistening

        Sleeplessness

train sounds off
quick secessions
and the breathing is off
Rhythm
I am a word that has no vowels
but a 'Y' is what it needs to be when it needs to be it.

        Stutter.

You can't unsubscribe to memories.

A red, hot mist; a lit match
To a puddle of gasoline.
Anger is a beast, frothing at its mouth
Hungry, hateful and lean.

It is in the husband who beats his wife,
physically, and verbally;
It is in the vitriol we spew
At each other detrimentally.

It is in the xenophobe,
Who cherishes resemblances
And apprehends differences.

It is in the people,
Who segregate into a familiar tribe
Unaware of who tortures us all
Unwilling to unsubscribe
From the delusion -
'I am right, and you are wrong'.

Ire smolders beneath the surface
Until the surface is no more
And all that is left
Is a charred, blackened sore.

It is as corrosive as a vat of acid,
It will burn you to the core;
It will destroy all that is inside you,
And nothing will be left to restore.

Infuriation is a many-headed dragon;
Devalued, unjustly accused,
Hungry, hated or powerless,
Ashamed, anxious or defenceless.
Demeaned, disgruntled, upset;
These are all emotions
That lead to ire and regret.

Yet, it is also self-preservation;
In an unjust world,
It is the burden of a whole nation.
It is the sense than informs you
When you are being cheated;
Like the sensation of burning
Upon touching an object that's heated.

Yet, unknowing and uninformed
We are always at each other's throats;
The establishment is elated,
In the embers of society, it gloats.

For, in this insane, deluded world
Happiness is a rare consignment,
A moment amidst the chaos,
Not a constant incitement.

We must look beyond our petty squabbles
And realise there is more to deal with
Than each other's issues and troubles.

Anger is as addictive as ******,
And just like it, it feeds on vulnerability.
Should we unite against our common enemy
It would mean invincibility.

We should not target each other;
Instead we should aim at those
Who have brought us here.
Those who steal, lie and control;
If they cannot, they will cajole.

It is those who have turned life
Into a rat race which nobody will win.
Divided we are controlled,
Unaware of the power within.

Yet, you ask, what if we were united?
Imagine, a whole world's anger
Aimed at the right mark;
That is what I propose,
Before it is too dark
And humanity swallows itself whole.

___________

Can’t Keep Up

Overwhelmed, well nigh.
Stuck, in any case.
Habit, certainly;
Dependency, it’s possible.
Too cowardly to hit delete, unsubscribe,
Headline drawing, leading,
Wooing into worlds of guidance -
There I am,
Adding one more site,
Email list so long
I’m sensing danger.

Yet, and yet,
I’m in the pit of knowledge, help;
Seduced
By eagerness and curiosity,
Induced, I click.
I fall,
A toy so miniscule,
I’m putty in their hands.

Motives suspect, motives pure - it’s in our times.
Motives all - natural.
But how can I create
When time is drained?
Promoting’s pace accelerating,
I’m just me, a Pooh of little brain.
It sounds so negative, but then
It’s all a double-sided coin.

Can’t Keep Up 2.24.2016
Out Times, Our Culture II; Definitely Didactic;
Arlene Corwin