shiftfazed

don't forget
your atomic scale
in space and time

and yet to endure the life of an atom
from this self-serving self-indulgent vantage point
{as if you were everything and not just an atom}
crystal wormhole railroad located down and to the right
hurtling off through opening-closing dimensions
attached to you only by a node hidden underneath your forehead

and to watch yourself scuttling through life
in iridescent browns and greens of insect fear

holographic human

empty vacuums of eternity whorling inside brain packed tight inside skull sheathed in plastered face
pleading
please do not torture me
please do not kill me

never finding satisfactory reasons as to why you should not.

my soul was so weightless
it slipped up and out of my body when laid down and looked
into the no-horizon of night sky
floating up up out and gone
into vast interstellar emptiness
immediately ghosting, spread far and wide

Gravity.

The moon dislodges our torsos from our locomotive legs
carries us away from the earth
where libidinous organs still reside
to float amid vast glaciers and deserts and bald-faced blistering vacuum
of solar courtyard.

The monkey thundering loudly and blindly through life
occipital glitch-wheel turning, churning out magmatic turds of over-processed fecal thought
Putting spiraling mosaic of heart, mind, and fleshy fingertips onto 010101000111000 nowhere-fiber
detectable only by modem and microchip
quietly stowed away against the overwhelming scrutiny of coevals
drifting in deep vacuums of space long after its progenitor expired in anonymity

. . .

but my Microchip
insists the Monkey in the middle of Everything.
What Microchip?
Says the Other Monkey before blowing his brains out across sun-baked concrete.
Uses fingers and prehensile tail to parse fragments of skull from cooking brain.
Where is it?
Demands Other Monkey.
Where's all the Art?  Where's the Soul?  The Heart?
Where's the Microchip?