Virtual life isolation is considered VIP seating as all who may enter are pre-screened in a self-preservation dance of solipsism as strained honesty pours from my fingers onto the digital RGB floor only to harden intermingled with the lives of dissonant strangers who reciprocate eagerly in revealing their weaknesses in a prosaic waltz across a frozen dreamscape where our misunderstood inner souls are reflected back to us as they float in monolithic mass on top of the depths of final judgment. Rather than providing final victory to the daily control alternate delete lather rinse repeat boot of my innermost fantasies and trauma which are as random as my physical interactions it seems recently and most superficially I was moved to speak of a self-assured young woman cleverly drawing confidence off the bottom of the deck while casually discarding competence who is triumphantly opening a high-end eatery of sorts but with time I find she is only the manager and after all prefers not to talk business because my questions have exhausted her ego-infested opening line as she stuffed her face with samples of diabolical confections soon to be marketed under the guise of pretentious cuisine for the beautiful people as we exhaust ourselves each day enduring the ambitious one-dimensional high-riser who wishes for depth never seen or heard in personal conversation but now the standard error of his own estimate deviates from the arrogantly leveled but just plain wrong command uttered in disdain to those who have actually lived with the people represented by mooted numbers begging to be deleted and yet I remain challenged by a life-long puzzle as I try not to make eye-contact but somehow still absorb the possible useful loaves and fishes of the God-fearing seeker of salvation that has been promised and now must be advertised as available in a never-ending give away as long as I humble myself in the prescribed manner neither to the left or right but squarely as King James promised he understood but on the other channel the drones of war which made prophetic the words of the old general who lamented the possible obsolescence of heroism and cowardice reminding of a futuristic movie as it now seems I am cheering for the death star or possibly the machines that travel time back in order to **** the very person who would bring soul forward to remind the company that people and not profits are what God allows through the eye of the needle. In spite of all this my smiling children know I love them deeply and there is no place that pain can be so welcome as in my heart to suffer willingly and openly until they are able to look at me and understand my ways and my decisions which may never be fully communicated because if God does shockingly exist then the revelation of truth will be delivered when they finally open the box that contains their thinking minds and the mysteries that may require further illumination. In a rush for meaning the virtual tour of all that touches my life is completed without fanfare and yet I cannot know who or what I am other than a mad ball of pain and confusion masquerading as a competent oar in the river of legal tender which I continue to worship as the answer to all manner of doubt.

work tripping #3 in 6 weeks
it's good they're investing in me
but it makes me feel
like I owe them things
and I probably do
it suffocates my anxiety
makes me consider a brisk walk
over the sill in 331 onto the Tarmac
in this quaintish Kentucky town
I've seen all 3 hours of but 100% know
it reeks of Igottagetthefuckout
homesick not for my home
but for beings and places that feel
like I don't need an escape route
or have to shove my thoughts down
and pull a thing out that isn't myself
I find myself going in the bathroom
at my parents house just to get away
because I can't engage with them
for long without alcohol to fuzzy
the thoughts I don't want to think
the feelings I'd rather disown
my dad buys too much wine
and I am so good at drinking it
I'm never alone enough
and when I am I just stare
into thoughts that go circular
everywhere and nowhere
it's all I want - to be alone and still
with nothing to do for days on end
no one to feed or bathe or need things
but wallow free in my lethargy and
get to all those dots on the ceiling
and not have to pretend anything
I have so many things I wanna do
but am lacking the proper thing
that propels things and does
the motion and I've gotten good
at doing the minimum but
I wanna be Onnit like Joe Rogan
but feel I can't afford that ****
though maybe I should rethink that...
and you know, I should be thrilled -
I got a free upgrade - a 2-BR suite
almost as big as my apartment
but it makes me feel guilty
for all the days I can't focus
because the ache inside wants things -
attention mostly, and just to cry
and sit and do nothing you know
I'm always half-assing even though
I'm terrible at half-assing things
because I either want to do it full-tilt
or not at all, so basically
I even half-*** my half-assing
so it's really more like a 1/4-assing
that wishes it were zero-assing
and I'm pretty sure I'm even
half-assing my lethargy
trying to sort out the other half of ****
I'm not focusing on when I should be
I always have these fantasies
of how I'll be in a hotel alone -
sipping wine in a bubbly tub
pampering myself, feeling sparkly
but I always end up feeling
so
alone
in unfamiliar cookie cutter hole
wasting hours on godknowswhat
with nothing to show for it
except some ****** poetry
or whatever this genre of ***** is
but the little white rectangle light
makes me feel not so alone
and expectorating the thoughts
into somewhere else -
my little RGB bottle in digital sea -
and knowing that maybe
others who long to be alone
just so they can wallow
in wretched unprocessed feelings
and be utterly ******* useless
aren't alone in wanting that

tonight I'll lie to myself
pretend you're across the living room
with the abrasive polyester couch
probably switching back and forth
between the two beds doing
whatever it is that you do
when you lock yourself down inside
and I'll ignore the screaming children
who must each weigh 300 lbs
running SWAT drills down the hall
and just imagine you're close enough
to be almost here
with me

and we're somewhere near
being whatever we are
or are not
and it's all OK because
we don't have to pretend
or half-*** anything
or devise an escape

we could play Marco Polo
even if no one ever wins
we can just keep role-switching
but I could hear your voice
and your pace pacing inside you
and be there close by just in case
you wanted to peek out
and chuck your shoe at my door
just for fun or maybe because
my nothing's too ******* loud

imagining you'd be OK with that -
doing proto-Wolverine impressions
or whatever ridiculous, wild, quirky
or boring, stupid, pissy things
you do when you're strapped up
in your own mechanical devices
in the space across the way -

it stretches my ribs a little
makes them want to be ready
to crack open
for good

Your face in gray brownish yellow
torn pages - out of the book
That look that look
Black eyes black hair no smile
Playful hand to camera - no
Mostly a child in your arms
The film on page grew cold to touch
Your sullen cheeks in my hands - go
Last saw you color real life RGB
Sickness made you fallow
What color harrowed tired worn flesh?
Back to that *brownish yellow

The dark second floor passageway
celebrates its one blessed feature,
a sash window, tarnished panes,
pixels, lit in colours beyond RGB.

An ordered scene of chevron gables,
an art deco arrangement, apex
clasping serpentine rust red pantiles,
pitched protection for the action below.

Steam escaping kitchen windows,
conveying today's menu,
while shining expectant plates await.

A clustered community,
mutering togetherness,
jealousies beneath the breath.

I did always tend to shy
to the side of life hidden by shadows
guided by mossy, abandoned walls
stacking bricks of one untold story after another to guide this life I lead
and all my favorite people come here
the mad and insane, the villains and vixens
smoking jokes with the jokester
like you want to play a little game
adrenaline ****** riding through the twists and turn of your brain
past the sleeze and the tease that you tucked between your sheets
all the times you denied lust because love looks better dressed
for the rest of the guests in your life
down and around the time you tried to lie just to please
some made up story that made life sound a little easy
say cheese
on roller coasters they always did take ******* pictures
and you chose the perfect spot between what you want us to see
and what you've fooled us all into thinking that you've chosen to be

but what's printed in a picture
is but smoke of what's real
real smiles feelings laughter drift away
when our lips make way to fake a buffet of happiness
its just a rush of blood to your head
to project the ideal scene from your pupils
melt into this pixelated reality like hey it can be real
you just have to believe me
that all this scenery wasn't result of sketching my cutest dreams
but in my head, the cute is starting to get dim
as its drifting further away from this mischievous grin
the cheshire cat was always my best friend, magic
like sleight of hand in a grin, fading in and out and in
this reality can be intriguing, disbelieving, a never ending day dream
like every substance to touch my tongue dancing in my words
to paint the streets and trails under my feet
its the clearest sense of clarity, and indefinite reality of everything that your senses think is a tease
like risk stained lips
sentences laced in ******* of persuasion
bones that guide your latest fantasy to take to dancing
like your entire world lost to the madness of *******
RGB slinging and sleighing everything ticking around this clock
its a melting masterpiece, sinking into the core
but theres more, beating down the door, vibrating the floor
sending the ground to clouds to float on
I bet you never saw that the clouds were but the smoke of every worry we've let go
I always wrote tales laced in gold when it was an overcast flow
when the grass blurs to floating snow, its an oscar winning show
dancing on your chest, coughing out all of the mess
**** it, forget the rest

im always preaching of the same thing
because society has changed our reality to gasping screams
stretching the grasp of sanity to something that seems pleasing
but minds have lost their soul when ghouls take to slashing
the hopes and dreams from the pleas
leaving them to dress the headlines in other countries
like we have to do something if we tell all the people
in new york times san francisco,
we'll leave our impact in a chronicle to find home on a dusty shelf
with every other mistake that betrayed our trust
you see, i've read the books of our history and nothing is really a mystery
its the biggest scheme in the 21st century, hiding our undying hypocrisy
and I went mad in a rhyme because I frequently test time
because I couldn't find sublime in the latest headlines but with each passing day, my reservoir is failing to drought as all these thoughts are racing out

Electric Jesus flash me those pearly
  whites
Show me who is worthless
Show me who to loathe
Show me who to ******
Electric Jesus plug me into your power
  strips and mechanized hips
Tell me what is wrong
Tell me what is right
Tell me what to love
Electric Jesus with your RGB sedation
  sweeping across the nation
Teach me all your sins
Teach me all your greed
Teach me all your hate
Electric Jesus preach our needs and keep
  us on our knees
More Money!  Praise Electric!
More Power!  Praise Electric!
More, More, More ELECTRIC!

Narcan, opioid antagonist…
Doper no-hoper last breath,

sneeze,
live, live on, remain possessed
eh,
hope, secular semper fi,
keep the faith, baby,
old man, laugh, yeah,
-retied liga-mind, refined
spirtual, not religious, possessed
of a mind that makes you up,
dresses you in colors,
jagged acute to apt'use stripes, wheeling
coloring contrasts across the spectrum
RGB -backlit, ultra high resolution, zoom in

dots, right, Ben Day dots
on paper become
colors availing themselves of brain gap closure,
squint and lean
closer to the light,
gnosis bias familiar
details, see, the artist, being art, autopoeisisical
special run, one off, you
ticklewormywordeater, you…
recognostic
hyped Ai guidance
easy reading being, you, mind-eyed
one who can and does, eh, decipher coded
edu- pushing through, pulling on threaded
letters
seeing
form as from a rude pen, using matter red,
and new Levis blue. ****** right, too, right.

- selah, we have a thread, marked thus,
- selah, wait here. Pause, hold this thought
- selah, wish you were here
we as wished were here,

all along the watchtower, jokers,
shooting craps with gamblers, Silverman,
big old pre Greek exchange clan,
ran the final stretch of one last hope roll,
I swear,
I saw him roll seven straight passes
on seven odd points,
and all my winnings were gone, and my wages.

Oy vey, s'okay, watch people drink on TV,
Pray like that is posed to be heaven,
on earth, the pinnacle of success,
single malt whiskey,

ha! That spirit boin bleu, boy, s'tolen you,
too many many many time to be tolen you
another time like doing this whole hell you

made up, for science sake, to know,…

How did the declared eternal worth standards
survive?
How has the balance of power story narration
wobbled on a bejeweled pivot pointing toward,
- eight billion breathing mortals,
- each finger unique, we suppose,
Share the produce,
share the effort to produce,
share a mind atuned to function over form
- The Emperor's New Mind.
- What good is knowing how small one is!
The Last Emperor's chirping cricket,
same message, same frequency,
ready
steady, quotidian duty, uniform clothing allowance,
nothing to do but think,
set the pace,

all day each day, breathe mindful or not, breathe
and be,
**** sapien, mudmadepentaform,
knowing enabled,
born naked and essentially
knowledgeless, no science,
no knowing easy from impossible.
- many magneto electro buzzings
- screeching too high to hear,
Thump.
Aha. Certain instrumental effects.
Clangggging clang, riviting ratatat machine gun,
toys of the current oldest generation's wildest pretendence.
- We all had a machine gun noise,
- and declarative gotcha, y'r dead.
- We learned Washington played war, and lead.
- Even as a boy, boys naturally followed
- the father of our nation, one, under God.
- Exceptional in the most noble classified codes.

Back in the day, in the olden times, let's pretend, make believe

we saw, maybe, five movies in a year, or less, from birth
to age eleven, or so, budding years, slow groaning summers.

Then, we got electricity, that was
1943, we moved to town…
said the old uncle, from some time ago.

Being 2023 curious, having asked what good
could be useful through me, ah, as when we pull
down strongholds,
big orthogonal law abiding piles
of non living stones,
edifying soaring declarations,
embodying the entire order of God.
From whom all blessings flow,
through the leader, who translates art.

Worth is measured at the ticket booth,
the box office keeps tabs.
The audience votes with the reaction
to the bait.
Trolling for nibbles, snakey lick sense, feel,
mmm hmmm inter, between state, pose
relative rest, now, here, interesting, esse.
-Warrior mindset, new tools, new reasons
war after madness sets in,
this is no time for sabers of any sort,
spells and tells, and told means to ends,
secrets held to the death,
seep from the records,
Nixon's karma tapes,
Nancy's stars telling her to say NO.
Dare exposure deemed good parenting.
We pull down
imaginations that have exalted themselves,
Ai, we each have our own art, I insist I am not you.
Line after line, letting go guilty leisure, persist in youness.
- plants are gateways away from synthetics
- dye to distinguish your cloak of no color.

Dare be nada mas, not coo', not hot, just fine,
traditionally, right, how you do in'? Just fine,
perfectly acceptable interaction between strangers,

eyes met, prompting projection, yes, you, I see. So what,
fine grain realizing, how I'm doin', just fine, thanks
for asking
in passing… shine on the serial sadness, a little light,
fills the inbetween, you see.

I, we, spend minutes hours even days
staring at pixels and RGB colors
living life through someone else's journey
gaining a materialistic knowledge
that is rendered useless outside
and sacrificing everything desired
for a compressed, sensible inferiors
in order to save some bucks or years
unintentionally creating a problematic paradox
causing pain and even more confusion
how can the truth, the necessary,
be increasingly stifled?

RGB
Rgb
RG
R
R
R
R
R

The no-two-snowflakes
phenomenon set my brain
off into a million different
fragments of star, each
looking down on the world
from afar.

You were already up
there, just waiting
to tear
it apart, or maybe not.
You didn’t need sweet
tea so you swirled in
apathy where I took
honey, and you turned
to the screen while
I watched the sheen
of gold
protecting little pockets
of air like they were
all that mattered.
If I protected you that way
you’d say you weren’t
worth my time.
No time is worth
anything, when you’re
going to run out.

Run out to where?

We took still lives in
photography but I couldn’t
bring in honey or pockets
of air or the raindrop
that froze on the airplane
window with ice shattering
and spiraling up around
it, but with the intent to
put the stardust in everything
I touched I arranged
the things for us
since you had something
kind of maybe more important
to do.
You like orange, right?
Yours still looked better
than mine.

Your mind is still in flight.
I wonder if you see the
fragments of ice
on the window of the
emergency exit row.

So snowflakes are no different
than fingerprints,
and neither is made
of stardust bright enough
to make sense
to you.
We’ll all be up there
soon enough, you say.
Whether stardust
or dust.
You love Mersault,
in an indifferent sort
of way.

But I zoom in on these
oranges and the ridges don’t
match, the RGB codes of
every combination of
orange shadow are off
by a letter
and no two oranges are
the same, I take two
photos without moving the camera
and yet something’s
changed.

It takes conscious effort
for me to be the type
of person I’d be friends with
but you do it so easily.
And if you recognize
that as unusual, it’s
one of a kind
just like everything else.

No two anything.
No matter what I look
at, it’s
still life
and I’m still living it.

It’s a hard choice.
You made the same one.
But it was different.

Look up.