Smashed.
Every symptom burned.
Nerve endings frayed,
like wires in a system,
dragged down a gravel road,
and submerged in dark water.
Files corrupted.
Whether it’s the source code,
or the injected vitriol.
Can’t imagine it stays the same
after the purge,
after the torch,
and the acid bath.
Who would want it this way?
Living in the stain
remains dungeon-esque.
The platitudes
no longer feed the need.
They cure like Methadone.
Just a small accusation.
Monkey on the back,
becomes the Devil on the shoulder.
Fire for effect,
we’re moving this party closer.
Burn up the day
with another hangover.
Split the over/under,
the odds of getting sober.
Wake up from this,
like a Covid fever dream.
Never saw the weather
as “Extreme.”
Just coming on.
Bring the rain,
bring the frost,
bring the snow.
It’s gonna be our time to go.
Sensing patterns
in the chaos
was a curse,
not a gift.
Could have left
well enough alone,
but we were told
there was something better
that all of this.
A high
that we could not resist.
Like touching a power outlet.
No doubt,
we’re straight up addicts.
Can’t see technology
for the trees,
or count our hard assets.
Over and over
this game plays out
and we keep pumping quarters in,
expecting the payoff.
Dopamine trickle.
So easily amused.
So easily confused.
Disappointed with the programming
so, we turn on the news
and are programmed
by the thing we thought
would carry us.
We’re Pavlov’s dogs
in this experiment.
DJR – 2022
