the nexus sphere turns,
and lost footfalls tread on
the fuzzy logic of broken circuits
and smashed switches that
have been put in the wrong position
spinning there, awash with the
neon limelight of a night in Vegas;
we have found the shiny blinking
console of our modernism, the
perfect sphere, absorbing all the
want and suffering and joy.
we�ve always been enraptured
by those fucking little trinkets
that we�ve never seen before
and then while pacified, the
providers take away what
little we had left
of ourselves.