Seduction Technology/Destruction Apparatus

My riff on me and we

Seduction Technology/ Destruction Apparatus
February 2008
I am torn the f**k up. I'm dying to bend the truth, make it all unhappen and find some placebo purpose for a life.

I want to just lay it all down; my disapproving frowns and high-horse standards-- try to get more flies with honey, make a little easy money.... master manipulator I'd must be for that. Every conversation becoming a distraction trap, a few more seconds of solace. If I can just focus on the next five minutes, forever will never happen.

I'd need special effects to absorb my attention-- until a slow tectonic torture tears me apart, levels my mighty imaginary mountains and corrugates my landscape. Pleading whispers break apart in the wind. I'd watch the rust become me, oxidized dreams corrode me, erode me, corrupt me, disgust me.

I've got black light sight. I mean this. Empty spaces, traces of the eso, endo, exo staring right back when I want to just see the stars for what they are. I can't help but see the negatives before they're developed, taken, turned, twisted, insisted it's something other than what I swear to god did you just see that?

And what I really wanted to say is buried under notations and random thought drops I'm afraid will be lost.

He shoots, he misses...

I want to be an avatar, not this empty spot in time. If I could throw back arms and explode this chest-- heart bits so you can taste it-- savor the flavor of rushing like million miles windspeed tears torn from eyes.

Breath catch, heart wrench, snot slobber, forehead to the floor sobbing truth it's over. She's gone and I'm nothing all over again.

But I will do this to death. I welcome each pound per square inch across my chest like I was blessed to be here, make this choice, speak with this voice, and the tone of a man who can commit but cannot convince.

Read me like you'll never see it again and there's a little bit of what it's all about inside. Cipher through my semaphore signals swinging side-to-side like you're getting... very... sleepy. Why not? Half of us have been hypnotized for most a life.

When I'm asleep I move like molasses with no strength at all; my bullet has no guns, I can't think straight out of situations we don't care to contemplate. But when I DREAM... man, it's the best. I get it all off my chest without worrying about who to watch and what's the cost. I let it all out with a rapid-fire release that just...will...not...cease.

Half a nation popping pills just to cope with what's been created, inflated. It's a small-minded mutiny. Language technology just to shut your mouth, direct. Am I "correct?"

One day I decided I cannot be crippled by keywords and phrases. If you let them tell it my kind can't jump, dance, run or fight--and if I flip the script and read it back I'm every little label they've devised for just such a scenario. It's only the esoteric that doesn't scare you off. Whole generations lost.

I've found I don't need your distractions; and that my actions aren't built upon buy this, see this, watch it and want it to get a glimpse of the satisfaction guaranteed-to-be new and improved model, make, brought to you by our sponsors after these messages isn't it easy to see life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness is a limited-time preferred customer gift frequent card rebate secure APPROVED flier miles away from what you really ought to be paying attention deficit debt dollar cash adjustable back rate percentage discount everything you CNN to the contrary, you free market oxyMoron.

Ah, f**k it, why bother...

Because I'm dedicated. Predicated on the fact that one day the toll I pay for this path may be half a soul, a pound of flesh, or the life of me I cannot remember where we went wrong so long...so long ago.

Should they scatter my ashes like I never happened my combustion will combine with the cosmos, suffuse your substance with certainty and softly whisper to your soul: we have a destiny, and this isn't it. I love you, I love you...I swear it.

Now breathe after me. See?

Author's Note

Please, you can be brutal, but be cognizant that my style is my own...