Ladies and gentlemen!
Step right up, step right in!
We’ve got deals for your dreams,
Sales on your soul—act fast, this offer won’t last!

It’s happening on Sunday, SUNDAY, SUNDAY!
We’re selling you purpose in bite-sized packets—
One-click, no mess, shipped express to your door.
Swipe right for self-worth,
Streamlined and sterilized,
Shrink-wrap with lies so tight
The freedom will explode out yer eyes.
They package the itch, they sell you the scratch,
A feedback loop of greed for **** you really don’t need
Until the pixels whispered: “maybe you’re incomplete?”
“Hey, no need to worry”, the advertisement assures
An app we’re making just for YOU, madam and/or monsieur!
I can’t help but sigh, and look away
“Another fkn monthly fee? Hmmmm, you don’t say…”

BUY NOW, THINK LATER!
Why wait and feel like trash?
Hurry up and upgrade, ya know, while supplies last?
Planned obsolescence will take you down in a flash.
Just keep’a running, like they’ll always do for your cash.

Your neighbor’s new car gleams like a mirror—
Not to admire, but to reflect what you lack.
Your happiness, monetized and momentarily delayed—
Don’t worry, we’ve got some payment plans for that.
Zero down, zero peace of mind, their hooks sink deep,
Probably looking for bodies, dragging lakes of our sleep
Bought a map for self-contentment, but the route’s under construction,
A platinum premium membership’s the only way it’ll function.

But wait! There’s more.
A lifestyle that screams success—
Filtered faces, curated meals, personalized workouts; THE BEST!
Illusion of choice sold on 118 labels, cleverly selling the same ****
Act now, and FREE for 30 days, you can try new nootropics!

They built the hunger and fed it back to us—
“Don’t be stagnant, don’t be still”,
Won’t be happy, can’t be fulfilled.
In this first world, first in line,
First to implode under the weight of wanting most.
Can’t feel gratitude when ads remind us—
Happiness is only on subscription, anymore.

BUY NOW, THINK NEVER!
They’ve got your thoughts on lease.
Run faster, climb higher,
Consume until you’re deceased!
Fkn, ***—BAG… IDIOTS!

They omit to mention, understandably so
Success for them is leaving us in the dark
By that logic it makes sense that they’re “all out of stock”
Self-worth is increasingly getting harder to hauck.
Still we gather, in hopes to support each other in some way
Right here, right now, a never ending ****** Sunday, Sunday, Sunday…
(I wrote this on a Sunday, btw)

my father is telling me last night he dreamt he was telling the neighbours to install a shining privacy screen. my mother is telling me she dreamt about doing her taxes. “hand over your documents” the man said. she’s telling me how it was a different man, and how he really should have already had their documents, and i’m just sitting here thinking ‘if my dreams ever get this boring, please shoot me’. i don’t want domestic fantasies. i am not my father. my father’s only son is the house we live in. i am not allowed to touch the walls. i am not my mother. i do not care if my surfaces shine or not. i am not my parents. i do not want a government job. i do not want a sterile house. i don’t like ikea furniture. i still have dreams about zombies and my friends and war the ocean and i never want that to go away.

A feather from the prettiest crow
Hiding under rocks, leafs and puffy snow
Give all, less or a piece to let go
A soul to let me borrow
Homemade masterpiece, no less or further more
Crafting deep within his inner core
Between his eyes an arrow and a bow
Underneath the mask a cute puppy show
Candles with an intense eager grow
Waiting to unleash the secret below
Thousands of lights like a dazzling rainbow
I’m screaming loudly in high falsetto
No sound, no music, like a mute radio
Can’t even feel my thoughts flow
For everything I’ll just throw
Flower buds, chocolate and expensive espresso
Missing something I can’t get in Moscow
Poems of memories that I owe
Suppressed devotion with tears falling slow
A heart with no depth is just halow

~
I felt a funeral
between the timid breaths
of ruination, we plucked
to death the melancholic florals
called time flowers,
translucent growths
with crystal hearts,
gifted them to someone else's children,
placed them around the waist
of everyone else's wives.

When plucked,
that crystal core dissolves,
emitting the light trapped within.
perpetual splendor or
the endless cycles of death?
do the normal rules
of chronology apply?

Look now! here comes
the great unwashed riot,
we live in an age of visual saturation,
where tragedy and beautiful
distractions crowd in on all sides,
clamoring for our attention.

Perhaps the dystopian premise
is part of a fiendish plan,
becoming the backdrop
to a fluttering cornucopia
of florals, each outfit paraded
in the beginning of May,
a blooming display of finery
hiding a complex
network of roots –
sponsorship deals,
brand calculations,
dedicated craftsmanship,
exposure opportunities
– beneath its pretty skirts.
~

The fly,
drawn by its addiction
to sweetness,
enters the pitcher plant.
Tired and drugged,
slipping on downward
pointing hairs
it falls into
the digestive juices
that dissolve its goodness
leaving only
its hard
chitin
skeleton.

You can only spend so many hours in labs, study groups and classrooms - under relentless, fluorescent lighting - before you start feeling life withdrawal.

When I hit that stresshold, I need to rebalance myself.

I could go to the New Haven harbor - I find the ocean endlessly relaxing - or for a quick fix, I can always rely on the warmth of multicolored product packaging.

For the last one, a grocery store will do. I’ll walk the bright, prismatic cereal aisle, and run my finger gently along the gratuitous, rainbowed variety of selections.

It’s a soothing gesture that I repeat several times. A reminder that there are still beautiful, shiny things out there, on demand, in the uncomplicated, non-academic world.

thin. paper thin.
here is a bonus. (or is it bogus?)

the order of release.
the order of dead pages gliding in the wind.

advertisements for adopting a lonely asteroid or building fire extinguishers in your spare time.

the rain of acceptance comes with dark clouds of shipping and handling.

just check the appropriate box and send it in. send it in now!

I'm like a Vulcan when you aren't around - logical, distant, evaluating you like a product with my friends. The consumer with a lifetime of buying.

But near you I’m a prisoner of some consciousness independent of thought, like a fever or the dreamer, with the merest semblance of control.

You are light and loose, hair like Spanish moss and skin like cedar resin, all laughter and agonizing beauty. The way you lean across the table I only think of kissing you.

I'm sure at times it must show, like a red stain on a white dress or some inconvenient *******..

You have some license on me, a key to a place in me I keep hidden and close, you fit some interior template of desire.

What good is freedom if I can't tell you!!?

Oh, the ragged vagaries of loves games. 1000 emotions and I am deserted to silence by some rule of thumb - by a faltering consumer confidence or some feeling of inward nakedness - when all I want in the world is an open kiss or to give you an intimate scented something...