I have been entirely entranced
enraptured
taken in
romanced
inspired, even.

The discarded heart of an actual city
lies in the middle of the mitten.
It’s still beating
can you beleive it?!
Grand discovery is mine

What I was running for
what I was seeking out
I already knew it
…but isn’t it always that way…

Spun into the web of home
with a price tag I can’t afford
It must be mine.
I must re-awaken and call
all the strands of chance
my good friends.

No longer an armchair human
I must get up and take
control.

The music has survived the apocalypse
For this, we rejoice
In all the ways we know how.

The beat lives on, an
affirmation of our survival
and a praise to humanity.

The voice shatters silence with a perfect tone
survivors claw themselves out
from under rubble.

All stops, silence reigns, under a moving shadow
A roar like trumpeting thunder
Sends them scurrying.

It lands with the crunching
of pavement
and spreads scaled wings.

When they finally dare to look:
A harmless man in black clothes
Leather trench flapping in the wind.

He asks them to sing
Pleads
And they see he’s crying.

The elvish features always
snag my eyes
the real ones
you can just tell.

Eventually, image reflects the within
whether we want it to or not
you can just tell.

He’s no businessman.
I remember now.
He’s a lawyer.
A dirty one.

The image reflects the within.
Sounds like a theory that
As time approaches infinity,
the difference between faked and real
approaches zero.
Inverse relationship.

Eventually, everyone will know
It will be common knowledge
worse yet
It will be old news

That you’re faking it.

They’ve just lit the incense
It’ll be at it’s strongest in about three minutes
Dig that scent

God song, bad song, good song

Entrancing strangeness of videos
Feeling, writhing, writing, thin as lies

A businessman is sorting the ashes
as if the butt was a broom
and has already devised a
marketing scheme

Is advertising
normalizing
an attempt to steal it away
into the ranks of the
sold-out?

Isn’t that what we all want?