ego

oy bien

these are the days as they unfold around me,
subjective time is sinking in.. no, swallowing me.. no,
caressing me forcefully, and i like it but no more than the
food here.
something bland to start your day
breakfast of champions and stuff

we're all so tired of the bleeting heart
we're all so misplaced in this
vastly encompassing
work of art

i have a boyfriend
ouch
that hurts my pride
but he's a fun toy that i love thoroughly
go figure

and everything reminds me of everything
and all that i grip tightly slips through the cracks
of positive and negative space

i wish he were here to distract me
from the work that i'm not doing anyway
and the people back home
don't know what they won't miss
when the roles are exchanged

the pictures taken go up on the wall
and we all take turns dissecting lines
dissolving beauty
the shadow here isn't in proper contrast
with the point of focus there
and blah blah blah your piece/peace away

get used to it
split open your skull with a hacksaw
spill out pulverized thoughts upon
paper no canvas no emulsion
and call it postmodernism
take note