#surveillance
exhibitionist and ****** are linked by common need.
the people of outer, inner Los Angeles live in houses with huge windows; they cruise one another insolently, unafraid of being watched as they watch; privacy is meaningless—there is only the sexiness of endless scrutiny and quick encounter.
he feels the heat, the balance between absorbed and emitted. the camera captures the changing blood flow in her skin. she scatters and absorbs far less than him.
consumed within roots of coincidence, the invisible her comes out through his lens; and it reveals the world as it truly behaves, not as it merely appears.
May 20
May 20, 2026 at 2:38 PM UTC
I’ve heard their lies. I heard them all.
I read the names carved in the wall.
I saw the soldiers clear the hall
and sort the shoes by size.
I ate. I worked. The day was long.
I learned the nation’s favored song.
I signed my name. I moved along
and left you there in hunger
I went to find the name I sold.
I walked at night between the folds.
and there were phantoms on the road
who died in ash and wanting.
I traded bread, I looked for clues,
seeking victims I could use.
I stole a coat that you would choose
and wore it through the winter.
I spread the map across the ground,
the river bend where you were found.
I knelt beside your fallen gown.
I'd lost my only witness.
I'm taking back my broken life,
my spoon, my tin, my sacred night,
the hand I’ll need to gently write
my song of ash and wanting.
They haven’t found me. Never will.
Footsteps silent. Breath so still
to move through shadows, choose the hills.
A ledger line is there to fill
the name of one surviving.
Jan 11
Jan 11, 2026 at 5:29 PM UTC
I tell myself, can't see ahead,
But my path is already drawn?
A narrow line in antiseptic light
that runs from dusk to dawn.
Each morning bleeds from yesterday
through walls too white to stain,
and prophecy is nothing more
than habit dressed as chain.
I wake inside a measured room,
where padded corners bloom,
and silence hums fluorescent hymns
against a vacant tune.
Who decides what sane is?
Who writes the rules for me?
If healing feels like suffocating,
is that recovery?
You call this safety, call it care
I call it slowly dying.
Tie my hands, dim the lights,
but you can’t stop me trying.
A canvas binds my restless arms,
fabric biting skin;
they say it’s for protection
I say it cages what’s within.
Once I held a voice so clear
like winter in the air,
now it shatters into swallowed glass
and settles into prayer.
Save me, smiling martyr,
step down from polished wood;
your halo shines in sterile light
it does me little good.
Who decides what sane is?
Who names me unwell?
If I don’t fit your diagnosis,
am I broken — or rebel?
You crown yourselves as cures
while I am tied in shame.
Don’t tell me I am better
just because you need the claim.
Your Eyes blink in corners
of every fragile day,
watching lest I fracture
or quietly slip away.
Rats of thought inside the walls
scratch along the seams;
they gnaw at former purposes
until they feel like dreams.
They ask me, will you take the pills?
Will you say you’re ill?
Will you trade your jagged truth
for something easier to fill?
Who decides what sane is?
What if the system’s wrong?
What if the thing that claims to heal
is what’s been choking all along?
You can catalogue and keep me,
file me, lock me still
but something in me will not die,
and something never will.
Feb 9
Feb 9, 2026 at 9:00 PM UTC
I learned, this morning, that my Grandmère’s tiny,
designer tote is a ferriday bag.
Mary, Mary, are you worried?
What does your browser know?
Your clicks, your likes
your secret midnight swipes,
are those things others should know?
What about the things you buy,
the posts you read, your favorite feeds,
the secrets you type, then backspace zap,
are tracked, like the buttons you tap.
Your ephemeral searches, the links you try,
uneraseable, without the reasons why.
It stores your trail, reads your mail,
with ever watchful digital eyes.
Mary, Mary, have a cookie.
What does your cell phone track?
The trips you plan, the maps you scan,
your location with accuracy GPS,
friends you text, the songs you select.
The news you read for ‘free,’
the streams you prefer to see.
Our gadgets know our rhythms
and feed the hungry algorithms
which sell our interests bit by bit,
and tweak the clever, coded rules
that predictively model your moves
before they’re consciously known to you
pushing that valuable data to Internet databases.
Mary, Mary, quite uneasy, what do your gadgets do?
they connect you to the world and the world to you,
They tease and ****** you but they also **** you.
Those apps - with your permission - watch and listen
to things you say, people you know and places you go.
.
.
Songs for this:
Cookie by NewJeans
Private Eyes - the bird and the bee
Jan 19
Jan 19, 2026 at 11:07 AM UTC
Weighted
For home, to see any fated
Light, and its heart...?
Worth without, a coping all to start...?
So, waited...
Has a view, of harmony sated
An inclining deem of reason...
Sat in a heat's shadow, to endure a desire's season?
Quiet forces
Witnessing, an acquiring sense of worsens...
Has the youth, for are's demonstration
Poignancy and burden, love, precisely my notion...
The awakening sun
Promising any moment with the truth, won
Twain is a parables pardon
For what cares love, has become...
The sanctified night?
With almost, the belly of always, right...
Sense of a serious less, given a sighs guest to many ways
Are we to dance well under the stars, if a shine of liberty, mays?
May 6, 2025
May 6, 2025 at 3:01 PM UTC
"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 the purchase of a rice pouch;
No longer pulsating in a sterile environment,
Simultaneously 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 possess an artifice of the Sea Horn which was not originally their own;
Those who unceasingly scale onyx towers draped in a filthy government skin,
Waving pure flags against the night.
Feb 22, 2023
Feb 22, 2023 at 8:41 AM UTC
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.
Mar 11, 2022
Mar 11, 2022 at 11:07 AM UTC
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?
Feb 8, 2022
Feb 8, 2022 at 8:17 AM UTC
~
*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.*
~
Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 6:59 PM UTC
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.
Dec 20, 2020
Dec 20, 2020 at 10:42 AM UTC
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!
Nov 21, 2020
Nov 21, 2020 at 7:02 AM UTC
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
Sep 9, 2020
Sep 9, 2020 at 10:22 AM UTC
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
Nov 30, 2019
Nov 30, 2019 at 11:50 AM UTC
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.
Aug 15, 2019
Aug 15, 2019 at 10:02 AM UTC
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.
Jun 9, 2019
Jun 9, 2019 at 5:13 PM UTC
Do you ever Google?
I heard they call you "USERS";
I mean, do you care?
Our lives are now viral,
a flush of the toilet,
a death-summoning spiral.
Funnels of sheer torment,
Kirsten Stewarts pretty hair,
...it's like noone's even really there.
All locked in a block of info,
only CIA's aware.
Some weird files to share, locked up in a cloud.
Do these clouds rain on men?
Do they make them run?
Summon a sea of umbrellas beneath?
It's a sea of despair,
and was meant to be fun, worthy of a stare, here and there.
Now all gone.
But to have lives abolished in shame...
Is it a game? A Facebook event?
Do we just pretend?
No way to explain,
Not even a gain.
Jun 8, 2019
Jun 8, 2019 at 3:07 AM UTC
Surveillance is the cornerstone to my dictatorship
Over your life
I hold you firmly with my invader's grip
To create strife
To spread fear among the vigilant citizens
And make you feel like you're not fitting in
It's all part of my devious plan
To trap you in my surveillance van
I've got owls perched in trees
And satellites floating in space
Pictures make the world freeze
So I can see your pretty face
I start to drone on and on
Your indifferent mouth yawns
You spy on the clock
Waiting for me to stop
You stare through me
The way I stare into your house
Hell is 200 degrees
When you find your lovely spouse
She doesn't have my pictures
She hasn't read your scripture
I must've gotten my information wrong
I thought my surveillance was strong
My mistakes rule me with an iron fist
And they throw me in prison
I thought I could live in surveillance bliss
But this isn't the life I envisioned
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 5:55 AM UTC
Imagine
With faith, You said,
You could help to
Address the problem
On getting colder
You have to write
Note on sudden death
Who is to blame?
Sins of ancient rites?
The last breath?
Behind the Bars
All shouting at you
All pointing at you
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 10:06 PM UTC
*why are there cameras everywhere I go?
what are they recording?
what are they watching?
why are they watching us?*
why are there cameras in every room?
why are they recording everything we do?
why are they watching the things I do?
& when was my debut?
(be careful, they're watching you too)
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 12:27 PM UTC