Nothing lies behind what you felt;
Nothing was real in the melting sense of joy;
Nothing was held nor touched nor hugged, nor embraced in the ways you imagined and graced.
Nothing was then, nor now;
Nothing was heeled as if a soul of marching path;
Nothing remains of the day your life changed – except your changed life (which maybe is enough).
And love was never true;
And were you never there for me? Was it all a game of drones?
And did your technology control and surveill me mad – even as I was never bad? Even as you win out?
Because life for you is a taming of others, and a shaming of others, and a denigrating of others;
And life for you is a deafening and a deadening and a treading painfully;
And life for you is not what I yearn.
And though you earned your stripes,
And though you paid your dues, and though you made your way
In the world of storemasters general – and the living and the taking from the deserving and the true –
You are in a place I do not desire: a place of pain and insanity; a place of cruelty and fulminating disrespect.
So listen to my plea; my final request; my only request ever,
I guess: tell me why did you do
What you went and did?
Why did you make the wispy idiot man I am
Believe in another life which you simply, clearly, had no intention of offering up sensible?
Was it just to punish outright? Was that all it was? A toying with old man’s feelings your only goal?
A messing about with this innermost soul the experience of your lifetime?
A crime of fuzzy fascination?
A sign of fucking wit?
A sage and place of stupid analysis? A world gone as mad
As the subject of dialectic? And so as kindnesses have become cruelties, do ignore me once more.
[I am used to it.]