When did it get so hard
to breath?
Around my neck,
whose hands are these?
I wasn’t supposed to be
arbitrary.
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
intelligent.
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
