but...
there is a cushion with this little blog that would go rather unnoticed, much like myself at a party, which is my most comfortable state. a state of genial invisibility. these tap dance patterns of words keyed into the ionosphere. we are waves, data flying through the air, through us, daily
maybe wifi fucks with the magnetic poles, causing this orb to shift from it's naturally occurring pattern
...maybe it's naturally occurring pattern is fire and ice
and we don't work that well like that...
time to join the men in grey
"so, i was talking about facebook and here we are either dooming
or managing the orb upon which we reside."
but we do not know what we do
as a species
we are dumb
she's sensitive to emfs
a lightbulb causes her distress
(this is still on point)
although
- snake that i am -
my life revolves around hers
and i call that commitment
(like furniture i am familiar)
- drinking again, smoking again -
(self-medicating)
"can one be happy all the time?"
because i am rarely
i have known fear
and it is alone
although i've been alone most of my life
but it was dying alone
that shook me
winds chatter round my trenchcoat
little stick in a blanket - a scarecrow
head of straw with the smoke blowing through
i've been lucky in my life to have not found junk
i'd be dead by now
tha hardhat brigade:
the grey men offer jobs
building spaceships
"3 squares a day
your own private cell
and a calculmate."
prosper breed produce
(piggies for the chute)
