Thursday, November 21, 2013

Charcoal fiberoptic lore

they chalked my
mature rating up to
word count, text recognition
bullshit, slapped the reverse
cuffs on my skinned wrists,
left me locked down
in the internet stockade
without a key, languishing
in my gentle obscurity, my
self imposed anonymity, or
am I , was I, supposed to realize that
too late--? Hell, it's worked so
far for the mainframe locusts
popping all my shattered balloons,

I'm not even sure you can read this--
how does it translate from my head
to the keys to the screen to the save
to you, how do I know they don't alter
the meaning before it's too late--?

how do I know I'm even typing?
How do I know I'm not someone else?

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