tonight we are the audience.

akin to candles in a church with no windows,
we are melting away.

somewhere sometime someone
is saying a prayer through us.

it is almost ridiculously hilarious to see all humanity as one intricate headless chickens dance
and almost similarly saddening that we are not laughing at it nearly hard enough

happy silly willy nilly

I shake my head
             .madly.
my webcam is not covered, there might be someone watching me-
 this
 is as close as we get to God nowadays
 .us relaxed paranoiacs.
looking back over our shoulders when making decisions



for a while my spirit was empathizing with the contents of alcohol containers
(empty)
now
entitled to feeling
--so full of  it--

o (dh)armă albă

there is a warm gaping distance between me and what I feel.

no wonder
I got to wonder
whether you're
really
such a wonder.
now,
I wander.

most certainly so,
I am a relativist.
that, of course, is a good thing,
but then again, it's also bad.

an anticipation of an emancipation of the present.
a full night awaiting to be emptied with voids.

sadly, people are white noise that I tune my ears to.

our consciousnesses are animated&contaminated.

-aberații produse în portbagaj, prea târziu să-ți pese, prea devreme să dormi, abundențe de nimicuri.

I have a bunch of reasons, all adding up to nothing

nopțile
  plantele de lângă picioare
  cresc din mine.
diminețile
  mă trezesc extenuat
  dar zâmbesc
zâmbetul
  îmi e o revoltă tristă
  împotriva unor adânci revolte triste
corpul meu e sol ademenitor vânătăilor, cearcănelor și feluritor pofte sisifiene

fugiti amarati nemilosi in infometarea noastra
stele sub sori, curand vom incepe sa ne rugam
constipat mintal
ganduri pitigaiate de neandertal
cutite tocite
singurele arme albe-mi sunt oasele, impotriva mea.
eu nu-mi sunt pe potriva

imi pun frana la emotii               mi se spune
sunt frana                        realizez                              cu intarziere
 undeva e o lume in care tu ai radacini in tine
 the crowd is not impressed
lick your wounds happily but keep sadness at hand|in the freezer icy chicken legs pizzas my anchoring in the present | streams of habits run by you run you down
lungs filling stones eroded to riverbeds
throwing fake punches punching the clock every morning
this is no poetry at all this was chimney lungs
treci pe autopilot si scheme prostesc de grandioase se ridica la suprafata iau fata si apoi iti sar in fata
chances keep squirting out of toothpaste tubes and drop in the sink
this age of abundance welcomes our dance of nothingness
tentative de a de a de altceva
do trust falls with yourself, see what happens