do you ever tire of trying

to break through the hive mind,

starlight?

let me punctuate

the exclaimed wound

with some lime-juice-truth.

chase your shot

at living the dream

sweet on these

maraschino love-stained parchment sheets.

there’s no cheating those

who’ve got the honest goods,

god,

the vast eons and egos in

every

single

inkblot

give you away.

pray to the typewriter theologians,

stay pressed between the button pressing

of buttoned-up emojis,

pursed lips in permanent duck-face,

immortalized in an insta-moment,

grams up your nose,

high on hearts

in the circle of praise.

comments for daze.

meanwhile, i’ll stick to the erotic hermeticism

of my hedonistic hermit ways.

tried and true.

watch out,

karma cartel’s coming for you.

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