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Photography,
Photo journalistic,
Everyday, realistic.

Commercial, architecture, landscape, artistic,
Industrial, fashion, ethnographic, pornographic.

Big Brother, fallace, stealer of souls, vouyer.
News seller, instant gratifier, man pleaser, woman abuser.

Barthes, Sontag, Cindy Sherman,
Virginia Woolf, Warhol. Weegie, Francesca Woodman,
Leibovitz, Adams, Arbus, Tina Modotti,
Nan, Evans, Hoffer and even the Paparazzi.

Cheap *****, digital manipulator, image poser,
Center fold, coupons, Jackie O and Marilyn Monroe.
Where did they go:

Lifeless paper product, painter's picture mess,
C-type, digital archival,
Sepia, black and white, hard drive retrival.

Image addict,
Image taker,
Image maker,
image seller,
image buyer.

Newspaper, magazine, graphics and ads,
TV, dreams, even the trash.

Billboards, subways, phones and buses:

Utopia:
Surreal, crop, stretched and air brushes.

Modern ideal.
Surface manipulator.
Brain conditioner.
Consent manufacturer.

Oh Photography,
I got you in my eye.
A few thousand dollars,
A BFA, A critical scholar.

Or maybe a nerd,
Just boys with toys.
Telephoto genitals, with motor drive action.
Studio lights, umbrella traction.

Oh Photography,
You proprietor of obscene.
Detailed, de-sensitized.
Court ordered, jury analyzed.

Click, image, copy, edit, paste, print or post.
Myfacespace, twitter, flicker,
An internet media overdose.

Pry, spy, your friend's friend's acquaintances.
Parties, picnics, reunions and shows.
Visits, vacation, style, shoes and clothes.


Pics, photos, images, jpegs and giffs.
Snap shot, portrait, panoramic, Kodak kiss.

Exacerbate:
Divorce, break-ups, jealousy, envy, love and fears.
Devour and captivate society for years.

Slaves to Western and Capitalist desires,
Destruction of Earth with psychological, monetary empires.
You ******* away
with the games you play,
and I cant seem to see
why you do this to me,

Why?

I don't get in a relationship, fall in love
and expect you to leave,
but you did..

You see i'm content to live in this fallace,
that I hope and pray will come true some day,
so I hold on..

Because letting goo, to me, means
believing I was wrong about you

You..

You were thee one or so it seemed,
happiness for us was no longer just a dream,
no distant resistance as far as I could see,

You wanted me
back then..

What changed and when.?
answer me this please and I swear i'll leave
you alone

"its for thee best"
or so you say
I still haven't seen how they correlate

but in you I trust all though, I know,
it isn't wise..

Please don't ignore my cries
for closure.

*Please don't decieve me.
Middle Class May 2016
Drink, ****. Poor. Lick, sensual fits. ****. I'm lifted like a arobatic wind, and drifted like a scattered garbage bin. I'm long and I lay verisimilitude to your crude oil painting of a Dubloon, your family ruin, treasure. I bring pleasure and distraction in a measure I can't measure up, too. I'm falling asleep on kin's couch as I dreamed I touched you. A canvas I placidly transit in my dream fallace. But I, I am I gilded knight, a sanctioned right, a shortened night. Why in hell cant I spill a little, content with being the **** for once, at the expense of my happiness, I choose constants.

— The End —