The Enjoyment of absent Apathy
was I a passenger?
all different and unconnected?
or all conniving erratically to one place
a plunging through the clouds
falling down and down
until
you swallow the empty alone
the Marvel © (™) quantum zone
of zany-art blended nonsense
where sneaky senses are blocking and
the brain stops rockin’
and
now we are here.
shut down from the world
buried in cold Netflix prime ordial soup
no hands raised
no answers given
old dog pillow for the head
pretend I am dead
for
its not really peace
nor a satiating meal
no Michelin stars, no sex appeal
but hidden here in the down stairs room
shadows formed of prescient gloom
pretend
I can avoid the rest of my day
by stopping here I lie
spaced out.
