and i woke up and i woke up and i woke up-

strong winds stroke my sails.
he was wearing a white tutu, and giggling-
artifacts of his adventures strewn across the space,
in straw,
amongst white branches, small trees.

and i wonder, in the face of constant consumption,
how to go about production.
i lost my socks today.
spoke excitedly, was slowly silenced
in curious contemplation.

caffeine trembles and cigarette breath,
these are the days.
these are the days.

and i woke up and i, and,
hung a right at the far star,
came crashing at the rings of some unknown force.
this is inconsequence : this is apathy.

(do you remember waking up and looking forward to the day?)
((((again the fear strikes dissonant chords,
the sound these days is always evil, emotionless, passionless-
it makes me want to scream, or sing))))

fuck these beeps and blips.
fuck these soulless words i read each day.
fuck predictability.
fuck your reality.
(it’s boring)
etcetera.

the rage is all the rage
so be it.