Monday, January 07, 2008

Hearts pass in tranquil space
unadulterated by emotions;
by the soft flutter of beats
that resonate from the skin;
by the excrement of the body
marring our complexion;
by the words that waft
into cold and deafened ears.

Fingers tap like click beetles in heat
moving in paranoia from screen to screen;
consuming voluptuousness,
consuming desire,
consuming simulacra,
consuming empty affectivities.

Ghosts in shells initiate discourse
to shells without ghosts;
to find the hyper-extension of the self
amid the clutter of wires and spaceless space;
to find solace in (un)reprimandle vices
amid the cacophony of voices;
to find the Other
of our Platonic half.