Technology, Technology
It runs our lives
From the alarm to the evening TV
Just count your sheep
in the hopes of a six hour sleep
Dragging, pushing, poking and grinding
All for what? A day where we swing away?
Reminise and rewind our lives gone astray
All our friends are easily connected
So why do we feel so alone
Looking for love on a computer screen
We’re all ******* with the naturalist gene
Nature’s monitored via tv screens
With copious numbers of LCD’s, CD’s, Mp3’s to sail the seas
Heaven forbid the ******* sneeze
That’s technology you can’t see.

Everyday caught
In the labyrinth of mind,
I am,
Where dreams,
And desires
And lust,
From nothing
Conspire something.

Destination: Canada Water.
The next station is Surrey Quays.
Doors will open on the right-hand side.
Exit here for Goldsmith's College.

In the cerebellum
Fragments flash cerebrum bright:
Wheels in tunnels burn,
A neural screech amplified deep,
As waves of electrons churn,
And in multiple places keep.

This stop:
- My birth -
Is in Westminster!

It’s time:

Do you love me?
DO YOU LOVE ME?
          Yes, No, Ohhh (the audience).

In the space-time continuum,
The labyrinth is forever,
Within a fourth dimension.

It’s time …

You love me, right?
YOU LOVE ME, RIGHT?
    Yes, No, Ohhh (the audience).

DO-MI-NA-TION
DEATH FREE
DO-MI-NA-TION
ASH FREE

Lost in the labyrinth: a journey to an exit.
The Overground train pulls!
And from floor to ceiling,
Between vertical orange pins,
A medley of languid listless limbs lulls,
       Seated hips,
       Angled legs,
       Dangling feet,
And neck-less heads,
Lost, ghoul-like,
The disconcerted move doggedly on,
Everywhere somewhere; but forever nowhere
Through London's hills and bogs.

From  STOP to STOP,
In the labyrinthine network,
In tubes splayed out on cubes,
Of bright brushed viscose comfort,
Overhead, the ads exhort:

       Top Up Your Soul,
       Fast Forward Your Escape
And
       uSwipe
       uSwitch
       uSave

Like these,
A hundred escalating messages,
Each more insistent than the last,
Compel, enough to distract,
So man’s desire enslaves his heart.

Its time…

         You love, right?
YOU LOVE, RIGHT?
    Yes, No, Ohhh (the audience).

DO-MI-NA-TION
DEATH FREE
DO-MI-NA-TION
ASH FREE

How? Why?
Has bacterial sludge,
Built these edifices of glass and steel.
This labyrinthian cage,
Whose walls race up at the speed of light,
While the inner commuter flame gutters,
Everywher, in multiverses,
Supernovas explode in showers.
And for a moment, in the moment, The Overground chromatic glows.

New Cross Gate, Canada Water, Southwark.

Lit and digital and LCD:
        
  ALL CHANGE, PLEASE.
  THIS TRAIN TERMINATES HERE

A few automated steps, and:
       Southwark,
       Green Park,
       Then Baker Street,
Appear, fade and disappear.

Now walking down Belsize Road,
On the evening of the
Super Gibbous Moon,
As it rises high over the Ziggurat dimensions of the Alexandra Estate,
And all is blood orange at dusk,
As I, a slinking silhouette,
Make for the event horizon of home,
For surely given, and taken,
A few more bends, another turn,

It’s time, again.

         Love, right?
         LOVE, RIGHT?
    Yes, No, Ohhh (the audience).

DO-MI-NA-TION
DEATH FREE
DO-MI-NA-TION
FREE ME.

To the event horizon of consciousness,
To that black hole at the core.
In death's star-like eye,
Embrace, pass through,
(Fear not),
On, through the labyrinth northward,
Entering and exiting,
We go awhile, a little longer.

Stars, my Stars,
Again, it's time.

You love me, right?
YOU LOVE ME, RIGHT?
Yes, No, Ohhh (the audience).

SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL
SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL
DEATH FREE.
LOVE!
BE,
WINGS FREE:

     SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL

One more stop:

       New Bond Street.

GET BEYOND
DESIRE,
BEYOND THE LABYRINTHEAN LIE,
CONSUMER, DIE!
BE
MATERIAL FREE.

Last stop:

       No-name, this one:

BE:

     SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL.

SAY IT:

     SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL
     SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL
     DEATH FREE.
     LOVE!
     BE,
     WINGS FREE:
    
     WE ARE:
     SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL

Gilles rushed into the kitchen and grabbed the knife
slashed it across his throat and dropped it on the tile.

Coming to his knees, he felt a faint relief,
Liquid Crystal Display leaked out of his neck,
and down onto the tiles in a puddle
he touched the mercurial 'it'

It pooled onto the floor and images appeared
an image of a beautiful man with a perfect body
an image of endless money, cash and credit
his childhood home, mother and father.
a kissing couple,
an image of hi-
                          -mself
and seeing these,
he had the queerest of feelings
a false déjà vu

as the last drops of It leaked down from his neck
Gilles finally came to -
a large pool of blood,
and blurry vision
to black.

I scroll through the pages redundantly
Left swipe right swipe as if suddenly
What I seek will appear in this app or that
I'll have what I need if I say yes to this ad
What did she do and why do I care
I guess I do as I continue to stare
Lost in this screen that holds all parts of me
Yet nothing close to what I really need
Do I know what that is can I find it as I swipe
Left and right up and down is my life
So convenient what a way to escape reality
Lost in the tangle of today's technology
Should I break away it this just how life is today
What would happen if the screen were to fade away
I'm too scared to find out so ill stick to my fancy gadgets
Oh I should live in the "real" world but I'm better off without it

i believe in a thing called love,

in toxic oxytocin tears and

jagged daggers of emotions

that hit hard and quick and deep

leaving lovers dazed and aroused

on kitchen tiles and sticky dance floors.

i do believe in love, i do,

in blood filled love potions

you put so much of yourself into it

that she just has to love you

she has to, she must,

and she does, she does,

ugly crying but ****,

for you, all for you,

please just hold on

she pleads -

mucus filled tears cascading down her face,

*******,

thighs,

pooling on the floor,

making the doctors both cringe with disgust and

simultaneously lean forward with interest

swaying in non-existent breeze -

and you die with your first kiss in your fist

and a piebald smile that splinters her inside forever

but i guess that isn't your fault, right?

i do believe in love, i do, i do,

in unfettered devotions

in ****-that-guy,

the quality relationship improvement show,

because you want to be a lover

but the guy ain't right

so just make him up

and use a real guy as his outside

you love him sanded, smoothed, buffed, painted

with rims and an inexplicable 48 inch lcd screen

you'll officially get hitched but don't cry

divorce is common and either way it doesn't matter

just look pretty and make sure to squint.

i do believe love, i do

i believe in

poisoning yourself for Juliet

rather than taking her pulse

to taking dear John's heart and

jumping on it happily

because you love him sooooo much

but like, the world has conspired against you,

not with guns and bombs and videotape

but with, like, freely made decisions,

peer pressure and jagermeister  

his blood makes pretty patterns on your

milk white thighs and i guess that

he sticks around for the show

oh boy, i believe in love, i do, that

6 and 9 aren't meant to be together

they just fit, that

there's no place for 'pure' in love cos it's all

pain and *** and spit

as for 'star crossed lovers'

the stars are always crossed

else eclipses would be boring and

each lost lover on a course

i do believe in love, i do,

in the sweetheart who lispes

licking earlobes and bottom lip biting

of metal snakes, happy fates

and piscean traits,

exuding high fructose glucose syrup

instead of saliva

so kiss them carefully or you'll

sugar high and sugar low

and sugar crash and burn

with every cosmic turn and

oh, i believe in love, lovers, oh i do, i do,

in the swirls of black and white that

play ying and yang

that kiss and grate and fornicate

forming a pasty grey

declaring that their grey is the

greyest, greatest, gayest grey

i do believe in love, i do,

bridezilla has destroyed new york in the

quest for the perfect dress as

otherwise her,

sorry,

their,

day will be ruined

milan and paris are shaking in their loius vuittons

praying they will be passed over

oh anna wintour,

just one more working day

please let the cake be next on it's list,

deliver us, oh lagerfeld, from

polyester blend shrouds in hideous off white,

amen.

but yeah,

i do believe in love, i do,

in philosophers that never tire

who'll be debating whether

kpattz, robsten, or my name for it,

sorry, them,

pattenwart,

really love each other

or are merely feeding off the media **** storm

to soothe their fragile bodies

and appease their shiny deities.

so yeah, i know what it involves

every ingredient labelled and shelved

sampled and sicked up and

given 5 star reviews on amazon

with words of advice

and i do believe in love.

i do.

oh, i do

so friends,

hold out your bleeding hearts

apply some anti-skeptic

your wounds will heal in 30 days

give or take a century.

And suddenly it was ten-til-two.
And where had the day gone?
It had been whispered into the liquid
crystals of my computer screen,
and drowned in a bowl of leftover pad thai.
I suddenly was supposed to feel tired,
but instead I was depressed because tomorrow
was calling, and I didn't want to run.
My eyes were watering, all of a sudden.
And the screen kept on whispering.

Arthur McKnight was a powerful man and New York was his playground.  Not that he ventured out anymore at night now that he had met Evangeline.  The long days of mind-numbing numbers he crunched managing Wall Street hedge funds had taken their toll on him over the years, but becoming intimate with Evangeline had saved him, had changed him in ways so fundamental that for him she was all that mattered.

     Arthur no longer noticed these subtle differences.  He daydreamed by the dim LCD light of stock tickers, craving the touch that only his woman could bestow upon him.  He had surrendered completely to her bliss.

     These days when he woke to her already gone from his Upper West Side apartment all that was left of her presence was a lipstick kiss on the mirror and a bottle of Sally Hansen Tangerine Orange nailpolish.  The quiet was deafening, but that bottle of Sally Hansen left on the bathroom counter held the promise of Evangeline's return.

     It was just after 7 p.m. when Arthur made it home and he could already sense her.  She was coming.  He strode with purpose to his master suite, spying the black thigh-highs and silky red dress he had laid out for her arrival.  The waiting was unbearable, and Arthur finally broke, needing Evangeline so badly he could smell her perfume, could taste her in his throat.  It was time; no more waiting.

     "You look lovely tonight, Evangeline," Arthur croaked aloud as he pulled the first of the thigh highs onto his shaven legs...

when the sweethearts left,
we took off our token smiles
and overly-kind eyes.

my roommate grabbed a beer,
quickly ****** it off,
i put on "beat connection" by lcd,
and the derailment of the night
began with some synth and burps.

i made a *** of coffee,
went outside,
the neighbors were having a party,
making a stew,
grilling chicken,
drinking,
drinking,
drinking,
and exhaling enough smoke to signal the natives.

"are you drinkin' coffee muthafucka?"

"hi, i'm josh, and yes."

"the name's chase."

"nice to meet you." *******.

before i knew it chase, our neighbors,
and about three people i didn't know
were in my apartment.

chase looked at a picture of lennon in
our living room.
asked me my favorite beatles album.

"probably sgt.peppers."

"you like that gay ****?"

"if that's gay ****, yes i like gay ****."

he grunted with rednecker royalty.

"the white album is probably my second favorite,"
i offered.

"man, the white album is the ****.
there is nothing else."

someone said they had some fire, if anyone was interested.
everyone was.

there was a dark-skinned boy, with snow white teeth and a fake afro, rapping as i clumsily played an acoustic.
there was a 26-year-old ***** and his 43-year-old wife
smoking a bowl in my bedroom,
there was my roommate vomiting on the carpet,
there was everyone
and
there was
me.
there was everyone
and
there was
me.

the night before your funeral
i coped by engaging in 100 different things
you would have never approved of.

i made the eyes at alyssa,
a girl who wasn't mine.

and i only did it because i know
she would never have me,
and that's always appealing.

lauren was late to the gathering.
she made four fractured souls
sitting around a wobbly table
at some arrogant sports bar.

i didn't touch her.
i didn't want to.
i wanted isolation,
yet invited these people
to make me play pretend
at some busy rednecker establishment.

i talked a lot about music.
LCD's latest mostly.
it's easy to hide behind the trivial.

we stopped at a gas station.
i bought beer for chase and tyler.
i hate beer, it just makes me feel
an idiot sense of accomplishment
when this 19-year-old pulls age off
via beard.

lauren left at 3.
i didn't say much.
i kissed her weakly.
she accepted it.
understood it.
had taken notice of my wandering mind.

alyssa slept over,
she had been locked out of her cousin's house.
in the morning, i made her breakfast, coffee.
asked her if she had decided to be my best friend or not.
it was a running joke to her, and she smiled, said she needed more time
leaving it in "potential" status.

i need a best friend.

alyssa left when i took a shower.
as i got ready,
i complained to tyler about lauren.
i don't know if i meant it,
but i listed quite a lot of grievances.
(is it my age?
am i restless?)

i put on a suit and tie. i didn't look at the weather.
i didn't realize it was forecasted to be a sauna.

i got in my car and drove to prague.
the Parks Bros. funeral home parking lot
was spilling into the streets, with SUVs
and heavy duty trucks.

i parked my car a couple blocks down.

walked into the parlor
where you were to make your great showcase
in that open casket.

my father gave your eulogy.
he had been your minister for a few years,
and had loved you for more than 10.

you had died in my mind months earlier.
when i found out about the leukemia.

when i walked past your body on display,
i looked briefly.
all i really saw were your sideburns.
they looked ridiculous.

everyone told me i looked handsome in my suit.
god.
was i so desperate for a compliment that i overdressed
for a funeral?

as we stood outside, it didn't take long for people to laugh.
talk about work,weather, ****** hair, baseball, and girlfriends.
"i hope the heat keeps us from being sad at the cemetery."

i drove to your final plot in the back of the procession.
my dad tried to explain some metaphor at the site, but it fell flat.
he said a prayer over your body.

then he asked me to lead a song i didn't know.
everyone looked at me.

i tried to pass the responsibility.
but eventually started lacklusterly.

i hope there's a god leonard.
i hope that you made it.
and if you get a chance to speak with him,
tell him to play favorites,
and make me a favorite.
that's the only way
i will ever make it.

We are a generation
Of instant gratification
Most of our lives
Confined to LCD screens
And large comfy couches
We are fearless;
Behind the username and password
Of a social network
Our words are no longer spoken
But formed by a repetitive tapping of our fingers
An act of bravery is now defined as
Sending a risky text
Our mornings and sleep patterns
Depend solely on
‘Good morning/night beautiful’
Carefully handwritten letters turned into careless emails
And break ups are just
A click of a button on Facebook
Trips to the mall became
Hot cocoa and credit card debt
We learned how to surf
With just a keyboard
And our laziness transformed the English language
Into LOL and TTYL
And how silly it is to think
We made ourselves this way.

Should my anticipation run and hide when the air so cold runs dry. My mind is a wonder in this ponder your hand feeds me. Some reason my heart says you're not a least bit overwhelmed, as I set myself up, but this I can't help to rely on free will and dwell. As I relate to the sun spots that reflect the conscious of hell we rebel, I sit back, trying to relax, staring through the tinted lens for time to pass. I reveal through the condensation, the eye of the drafty wind.

My mind wonders as I see the inevitable piercing reason for life bleed through the trees, quickly catch my eye. My heart races mystically to the beat of epilepsy as the hours surpass behind this sun glass. As I get to thinking, you remind me of the constellations breading, metaphorically speaking. The halo is gorgeous as your amber glows the Tuesday moon, bringing in a Wednesday revenge. I listen for a perfect circle to a perfect gratitude of the lust we all share in a wanted haunting spiraling into a Fibonacci themed sea.

Your strawberry kiss gathers a thesaurus of mood swings. It's heart carries a stone the size of the moon. Pity from far but a sight to see as the circle of life surrounds the familiar meaning of how much you mean to me. Only somehow, I find myself feeling like a LCD movie scene, Incomplete and all alone or like a childhood never ending story of love. Boring and make believe.

Some days I can't remember, some days I would like to forget. Like when lovers split into million's of pieces, we deal with it. I pirate about as my mates call me out as I blacken into fading out. A cool breeze to cold chill spinal tap heart attack buried deep in my bones like a diamond in the ruff, protected damaged goods. Keep me in mind, my fractal eye, frame this sight, picture it twice, what you see is what you find. (needs work)

Finding myself blind I'm reminded all the time, I'm bloodshot dry trying not to show you why the need to express my feelings. My reasons why are believed lies. With just one look, no second guess. You'll see my regret. You'll see me die a little in sight. The half heart you shared the day I felt it would matter, I felt I would care...

I would reside my life just to keep you near of a grateful insight. Standing in line waiting to see you see my side. I found my peace in between the daisies and the trees. You had fit the dream of being complete embraced me, to let it be. Hesitation aside I would rewind my life just to keep you close by, but the patterns we can't hide from this manifested tide. A rush of love a loss of touch. We reach for the sky but the stars just keep pushing high as we keep stretching our time here, it's all we have, is space.