Sunday, September 6, 2009

processed self in modern times

I am one pixel deep but as wide as a lake.
I am made of cork and mirrors and outtakes.

I barely exist except in a dimension of need
and facade.
My batteries are failing, my usb corrupted but
I have to go now, the 'Applause' sign is flashing and
That's my cue.

Quick, someone take a picture of a cat
With a Hitler moustache,
Show me the grotesqueries and pantomime of
So-called stars with no careers
Show me the human burlesque parade and teach
Me to contort my wants and speaking paths to
Fit in this digital box.

In the sternly seething flesh world --IRL LOL--
I am not your princess. I am not your slave.
We do not exist as these people. I do not
Know you, really.

Circuitry isn't even an analogy now, it is all
Post-concrete, post-threedee.
Tactility is so 2008.

We live in flashing lights, we live in TSX sound.

In the cave where my meditating body dwells, a
Rat gnaws my bones.

No comments:

Post a Comment