C is just a letter … so why did it once mean more?

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.]

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