We’re drift dots...

Our bodies are bulletins behaving badly, running when we feel free– [afraid of our news feeds]...

With nowhere to hide, we’re learning psychological acrobatics to climb ahead of us inside...

With half our child’s eye missing, we’re mending and pretending, eyes set on our marvel...

Here, these humble bumble bees, clumsy and dignified, redefine...
Because there is more to us than our dull diaries suggest; than these pressured, parasitical playgrounds repress...

As we’re turned into clones in these city messes, we’re reminded of home in the simplest of places...

Our hyper-perceptive, cybernetic surge is tearing through us, and we’re drift dots searching, scattering timeless new love.

Postmodernists like Rohrschach blots
But painters prefer polka dots,  
But shaking paint just right
So dots stay round and tight
Is like tying needles in knots.

brown • branches
break • white • crystals
into • disappearing • pieces

We don't need the perfect words or metphors
If we truly care for someone;
We don't need them
-Describing
how they feel...
all we need to know
is to see,
if our heart
skips a beat
or two
when they are
- Typing...

Little dots of light
In the endless void
Too far for my reach,
They come and go, leaving me



Alone



Sometimes in groups, sometimes just one
Little dots of hope, little ***** of light
Dancing they go, where? I don’t know
But unlike me, they’re not



Alone



But one time i tried my luck
And jumped towards the dots
Enveloped by light, they dance
Why don’t they flee? Why don’t they run?

They gently caress my soul
Sea of light fills me whole
Because the dots were never fleeing
I just hadn’t come close
And thanks to them, I’m Alone
No More

Drew all the dots till the dawn just to once again find her face dangling over my stupid pad.
Oh god I can never get rid of her can I??