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When I first caught glimpse of
that jimmy-rigged
thirst trap insta-photo with your
leaning alongside the lowest
base note piano keys
I considered you a casual medium
invoking with the guileless eyes of
the deceased once-was heat of a
surly yet
casual Pop Star

I couldn’t help but notice
that your flame, if you will,
as his flame before you,
Like the last embers
of a campground fire in
Yosemite National Park.

in a basement somewhere
in the San Fernando Valley
shoveling coal like Cinderella,
Never to be allowed near a stringed instrument
Nor a mic.
Nor an amp.
Not even the littlest sister’s
Cowsills Tambourine.

I’m not the only cuddly toy.
I’m not the only choo choo train.
I’m not the only cherry delight.
I’m not the only
I’m not the only

Stage 8 hosts
a gathering
of dem dakota witches
and while they tried to concur,
Rosemary screamed
into her chocolate mouse stupor
“This is no teen dream of 1974!”
“What about the 60s?”
a naked old witch
encircling her bed
inquired tentatively.

You could be absolutely mad
Which would explain
the kooky
eyeball thing
but what’s the success rate
after all this
I reckon?
Who would take the bait, anyhow?
“You’d be surprised,” sneers another witch.
“Shaddup” snaps Castevets
Fozzie Bear just told you to **** his diseased ****.
Roman stands behind him
holding his own,
between clammy hands,
hopeful and
biding his time.


Funny it should be
who would be the
to make

“I think the terms are about to change, ” screeches another witch,
this one standing by
the yellow curtained
shuttered window,
Which holds within its folds
the electric air-conditioning unit
Like Mary, Mother of God.
Or a corpulent and rotund
Laughing Gelatinous
Belly of Buddha

So, it would appear,
that in just one year’s time
or perhaps just a couple of months
Trapped in your household
With audio and visual stimulation
of all
delivery services
and real-time isolation
Within an mise-en-abysme of
traps upon traps upon traps,
that you’ve become perhaps madder still.
Mercury in the lining of the top-hat mad.
“And who hasn’t?” asks that naked witch again.
I’d add that you’ve put on a few.,
Which a lot of people have done lately,
No judgement
But I doubt you are baking a lot of bread
And you look a lot older than you should.

So I wonder,
how do you get to that
vibratory chi
when you’re walled off like this?
Once you get to the real stuff
you’ll look
so much better.
This quandary engages me enough
to indulge in a whirligig
which can incorporate, if I want it to,
Courbet’s L’Origin du monde,
the envy-soaked diamantine stares of a *****
yet perpetually ignored roadie,
And street-level prostitution.
It’s a crisis!

I would have thought that you could just
Draw it all straight to you
Without actual flesh
Bring it through the stucco’d walls
Or down from the ceiling,
quickly and upon demand.
No traffic and clean air make haste.
But no.
That’s not working right now is it?
Magician Reversed.
Kim C Aug 2020
Tribulation and vexation led to this
Fixated on decamping the mess I was in
Participating in anything I had access to
Escaping reality is what I would do
I wasn’t too fond of alcohol; I wasn’t too fond of ****
I had a few drinks here and there, but I had control you see
This isn’t an alcoholic’s story or drug abuse for that matter
You’d probably be thrown off for what I’m about to tell you
Maybe even engage in some laughter
Waking up every day to my escape
It would be my getaway, my slave
Posting online what I didn’t practice
But I needed those likes, I needed to have it
When someone would heart a photo, which pleased
I admired the adrenaline rush I received
And this started leading me to a downward spiral
I was easily shot by the dopamine rifle
Scrolling through my phone all day, I did
And I could absolutely feel the tension kick in
Almost hyperventilating like I had to stay on my device
It was as if the devil telling me, I am a bondservant with no might
Repeatedly trying to appeal to other people
through a false world
Posting many pointless photos, my brain was in a swirl
And looking back, at one point I hit rock bottom
I purposely purchased things, just to take shots of them
& I also look back on posting Biblical things all-day
But not to reach out to others, not for the right reasons, I used it for my own selfish sake,
now that’s some extensive disgrace
Because I needed the hit, I needed the high
I had false gratification from receiving the likes
& I remember constantly taking photos of my self
Spending hours with this nonsense, I seriously needed help
And when receiving little likes, I felt self-conscious and worse
I was worshiping the flesh and depended on this for self-worth
But the Joke’s on you Satan, I serve a greater God
Who convicted me of the things that I was doing wrong
I desperately prayed to Him & kept hollering His name
Asking other believers for help as well, to free me from the cage, I was a digital slave
And it took some time, it took much faith
Sometimes I felt at peace with it, at times I had intense rage
But Jesus is a faithful God, who will always test your patience
Eventually, the fog disappeared, and I eventually awakened
Jesus set me free, but it wasn’t facile to move on
It took a few years, to witness what I wanted to see gone
Now I know my worth & I know my value
I do not confide in vanity, it is no longer my idol
I focus on important things, on things that truly matter
Like Spiritual things, and the God I run after
I know I’m beautiful, & others can attest to that
In no way do I want to sound prideful, but just stating the facts
We ALL have beauty, & gifts to offer
But put God first, and then you’ll prosper
Now I want to end the story with this
This is the story of a social media addict
But now I am free & you do not have authority over me...🕊

— The End —