Breathless, punched in the
gut seeing language evolve,
my own words falter.
Upon reading the work of a great writer
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Breathless, punched in the
gut seeing language evolve,
my own words falter.
You still up? Dude, it’s
not like the internet won’t
be there tomorrow.
Buying a domain
name to monetize content.
The new bourgeoisie.
Cost to average
household: Five thousand. Voting
the bums out: Priceless.
Where did they go? Wake.
Eat. Work. Pay bills. Each the same.
Days blink by, all gone.
Bad trim, worse blow dry.
Pitying looks from strangers.
Do I cut and run?
What we hold onto
owns us drowns us sedates us
slow death by shopping.
I type in a dim
dark room listening to surf.
There’s an app for that.
When her voice leaves her
body, recorded, it’s a
stranger who comes out.
Why they don’t do it
my way I can’t understand
’cause I’m always right.