And when I decompose listing to your drunken prose… Notes from the Dead Letter Office

We gaze into what lies beyond our claustrophobic shells
what seems like loneliness is proof of time passing
Scratch and dent cheap soulless confection
At what point did we bar ourselves from out hearts
What were we afraid of letting access to these places?
Or were we anxious about letting things out into general population?
The constructed cages built around our malfunctioning monsters
What nots and worries right there next to hopes and dreams
Like convicts learning how to better get ah head in that outside world
At some point some wanted all this to be understood and safe
Everything can unfold just as easily as it was created
if without reasoning’s bonding agent and logical concerns tamper proof entropy
Pre-manufactured lifestyles boxed and wrapped silo’d individuality
Wound so tight you can hear atoms breaking their chemical orbit
Skin pulled tight across cancer bloated bones the prize at the bottom
Unblinking orbs exhibit functionless observation with a piercing dull ache
The lights flicker the same message in fluorescing S.O.S.: reward
Strike and be done with it. Take me into your wet maw.
Snap my neck and let me dream forever. These are the complaints of possibilities
A trick of the light and plastic porno smooth crotches
The carrot condones it pursuers, the never ending dance
Round they go, elliptical fornication, where it stops no one knows
Russian roulette rules with Vegas payouts
The next big thing dangling
Mission control freak out
Panic button wolf criers
Finding it hard to communicate

(February 18, 2009)