Staggering out of a cyberized pollen bar
into a neon night
I’m definitely drunk
Buzzed to the gills with gigabits
of useless anecdotes I wonder
How do you sleep with all this stimulation?

Hyper-text overload

There is so much voltage hyper-linking through me
it is impossible to recognize or remember
the divinity of the beehive
because we are all making so much fucking noise

I try to pretend the noise is delicious
and goes well with alcohol, nicotine and caffeine
and the adrenalized rush of the millennium hurricane
So what if it’s toxic?

A crack in the sidewalk puts me on my face-
the system has crashed
I know it’s time to reboot but some things can’t be said
and they won’t be whistled either

Trapped in a closed enclave of my own making
I can’t think my way out of this:
I have to go melt…
sleep would help but restless neurons
are running meaningless errands

Instead I stumble on the down the street
buzzing, cruising in the thick air till dawn
Looking for someone-something to synchronize with:
a sentient being…a lamppost…whatever
anything that will calibrate the gears

I begin to envy the sidewalk
I want to lie in the mud and let it all come to me
As the sun rises I am panting on the corner next to a dog
I look into his sad eyes and get nostalgic
for the days before light bulbs
when darkness meant something

Hyper-text overload…

Transcribed from MVP
May 12, 2008