When did it get so hard

to breath?

Around my neck,

whose hands are these?

I wasn’t supposed to be


We were both supposed

to find

analogs and die

in comfort.


There is nothing left

that I

could want to give you

and still you just

sit there looking at me

like you’re interested,

like you’re not just playing

a toxic game

and I’m about

to believe you.

Here we go again.


Always considered myself


Maybe I just didn’t

understand the word.

The thrust of ego,

blind to the parable.

Face down,

drown in my own reflection.


Do you consider me

– an analog,

or a safe alternative

to your dreams?

Don’t drag this out,

put some effort in.

Clamp down harder.


Is it

you or me,

or someone else?

I can feel  the squeeze,

but who could see

anything in the dark

with all these stars?

Spinning in the afterglow

and down we go.

Automatons switched off

long ago.

What a wonderful world.

It’s all so simple,

as easy

as breathing.


HG – 2018

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