Help. I can’t stop opening my phone.
Someone has placed my life on a high shelf
where I cannot reach it. Help me.
I keep toying with time
like it isn’t a tiger on fire.
Worse, my interest in the rhyme
between satiety and society
makes me full. When it doesn’t,
I try to remember we’re all drunk
under one slant of sun. Help.
I’ve fallen on the concrete
details of capitalism. I’ve had too much
to eat. Please don’t touch me. When thinking,
students say my face looks like hatred.
When thinking about thinking, I imagine
a camera turning in a windowless room,
trying to get an angle on itself. Once,
lifting my hand from an itch,
I saw the ant’s illegible dismemberment.
Worse, my interest in the rhyme
between satiety and society makes me full
of fear. When it doesn’t, I remember a friend’s
recommendation: a good pair of sweats
to weather these secular heavens in. Help. I’ve fallen
through this little window of infinite distraction.
I’ve learned fire ants, on a raft of their own bodies,
can weather floods for weeks. They all survive. Help.
I’ve learned: replace ecstasy with spectacle.
I’ve learned: don’t quit your daydream.
That always, in science, the most pertinent question
is why is there something rather than nothing? I have
had too much to drink. Please kiss me. My ugliness
is needing to be everybody’s good boy. What’s yours?
Worse, my interest in the rhyme between
satiety and society makes me full of fear
I have nothing to say about it. But, you mistook me
when I said nothing has meaning.
I meant it the other way.