The next life is being offered to us daily
via live streaming coverage of entitled white rabbits and tragedy addicts
dragging their fingernail file cabinets
across records of the damage my nerves have done,
inglorious preachers of a sensational game.
Sensations are at the root of why we are walking so inefficiently, warped 45’s with credit card swagger charging up a sad sad path
like Ray Charles singing Seven Spanish Angels to the bottom of the barrel in
broad daylight. Stop congregating in the valley just because an echo sounds good when it agrees with itself.