Back in college, and for a while after, I used to write crazy poems that got me in all sorts of trouble with the hopeful panderers. I never hit them from the stage because I’m no town crier, but, my outlet, and their sick fascination, was popular nonetheless.
When the refuse of the day echo’d dripping into a sewer they would line up to cry at me, no doubt missing their childhood and eruptive spontaneous laughter. My job was to show them what they were missing, through their isolation and apathy, and crush it with broken warm cookies.
This morning 3 lines popped into my head as I relieved pi-hole of its DHCP duties. There’s no connection at all, but, that would be a lie, wouldn’t it?
betrayed from fake love evasive and lonely rocks lay dry in the sunrabbi machiner
Then, I sat laughing for a few minutes at the camaraderie we all hope to share, at the end of our arms, and the next few lines motivated my fingers
I'm a cave-dweller wearing my shoes everywhere enter and be damnedrabbi machiner
And I remembered my mother – burying me in coal and mud – dying a million times every day because she could never find the right ingredient for her hopelessness stew
Noah was a fraud he accepted nothing real when god said cubitrabbi machiner
And my kids running from a fake specter, egged on by another miscreant that was never whole enough to finish a sentence
seeing your smile fade has killed me a thousand times every single dayrabbi machiner
And then I realized that my fingers were disconnected from my heart, now, but I publish these anyway to show the path best not taken.