"Once he is within our custody, we shall take his life. He shall be, henceforth, survived only by the image that stains my CCTV screen."


Security is no longer watching the CCTV.
No longer watching someone purchase a rice pouch—
Pulsating in a sterile environment—
Monitoring an image that was never on tape.
Focusing, so deeply, on a soul that was never on tape.

So deeply fixated on those who have committed a crime.
Those who are substantially unblemished by sunlight.
Those who are continuously touched by our Heavenly Father's sight.
Those who unceasingly scale onyx towers draped in a government skin,
Waving pure flags against the night.

I’m over Siri-ous,
I’m over-charging,
My screen time is up,
My audio levels are up,
I was watching **** again,
I’m searching stupid things,
I’m not closing all my circles,
I haven’t walked long enough,
I don’t stand at all the right times,
I may be an online shopping ******,
I’m spending too much time on Tiktok,
My heart jumps around the wrong guys,
I’m looking at bright screens late at night,
I’m getting too many calories from cocktails,
I’m not taking full advantage of my subscriptions,
I need to upgrade my hardware, software and my attitude.

All around campus there are these little black *****, like hanging
alien eggs. Glossy, obsidian bubbles concealing cameras that
record time-stamped, audio and hi-def video.

Could this surveillance footage ever be sent to parents?

Imagining letters sent to parents about campus/dorm surveillance

Dear Mr & Mrs Vionet, we have observed countless kisses,
disheveled morning walks and late night visits which indicate
that your daughter is a scandalous little *****. We just wanted you
to know, in case you want to know more. As campus security it’s
part of our business to keep a full, digital record, detailing her sluttiness.

Your friends in campus security.

P.S.
Would you care to donate to the University endowment fund?

~
There's trouble in Alphaville:

Caution in the taxi, "I am on a journey to the end of the night."

Remember to silence love when sneaking Sally thru the alley.

There's always one too many wives on the same wavelength.

Seeing is believing in the cold ultraviolet light of a long, warm lens.

And naturally "How to Teach Your Wife to Be a Widow" is all checked out at the local library.
~

From
the veil of
trees, I can
peer into
your window,
and count
the family,
imagine them
gone to bed,
dreaming of blue,
"underwater, unaware."

Those summer
evaporations tickle
my skin,
bring on such
an observational
itch:
how you,
freshly out
of the pool,
bloomed
brightly on
Betamax.

Some old movie plots
can't happen now, with changes
in technology...

You know, in a movie
when someone texts everyone
at school by mistake?

Who has EVERYONE
at school on their contacts list?
No way that happens.

Parent-less parties
where scores show up - with modern
surveillance systems?

or ditching class, heck
my parents are texted my
quiz scores real-time.

"why'd you get an 88
on that Calculus test, I
thought you studied?" Argh!

Don't look at me
Stare straight ahead
The camera sees
And hears what's said

Fear 'Little' Brother'
In the phone for when
Everything's discovered
You turned you in

Bots with your social
Your facebooked look
And alexiacon vocals
Read you like a book

It was you but only you
Who fed 'Big Data' bots
Letting trackers through
Accessing all you got

Surveillance in any hand
A.I. genies in all reflections
Takes itself from every man
Knowing every direction

Losing a piece of me
Is losing a piece of you
If you come close you see
You're a chess piece too

three husbands
three wifes

don't try to find 'em as
they will have found you
long before nighttime

somewhen in-between-time
yeah baby i know it's fighttime

but don't try to opppose your
destiny as you've been watched
by satellites / surveillance cams /
your friends and your aunts

they're not against you
yet none of 'em is gonna thank you
for nothin' you feel me?

believe it or don't: by the end of the
year YOU gonna say: thank you

welcome to the
you-place

Profusely thanking their gods and goddesses
when striking it big
Slinking silently from the table
when losing it all
But ever faithful to their capricious gods
Never ever seeing the ever seeing eye
Or the hidden algorithms
Calculated to lure you again and again
To play and pay for the thrills
That by Chance you're the gods' favoured one.

The Kekropolis you built.
Just thinking about you makes me feel odd.
You always come as a psyop,
implemented and fake.
I scream a thousand voices to you.
Every time i see you, my knees clutch.
You are not for real.
I mustn't speak.
There are others here, on my mind, on my paper.
Leaving behind a ****** trail of despair and sadness.
I won't let it affect me.

I'd scream again if i knew you were here.
Not involved in psyops.
Not connected to cops.
Not handling guys.
Not wearing disguise.

I'd care if it wasn't all artificially implemented,
I'd come hadn't you texted.
The deep state of a messed-up.