the doubter, doubted;

Today doesn’t feel real.

I feel like I want to change my life,

but I also feel like I want to rip up the

carpet & boards from under my feet,

nestle myself between the framing and

cover myself with concrete,

­

instead of doing what I’ve

always done, which is turning

360-degrees over and over,

looking at all of the roadblocks

that I’ve decided exist

(because I choose to see them as such).

I guess it’s a start.

­

Days like today make me question

free will, or maybe make me certify its

existence as the bearer of all news or

no news or whatever the fuck;

the outsider’s view (or in this case the

outsider’s outsider view) is always the

strongest, the huddled bird’s nest in

the sky, with appropriate vision;

­

skyscraper-minded vision,

appropriated to the plans below. 

Market those plans, make them eat

those plans, watch them buy into those

plans; you yourself don’t believe those

plans, do you?

­

I am able, but don’t feel able.  I can only

stare at screens when I’m this far gone,

turning on old movies that I’ve seen

100 times, or shows, or being a part of a

crowd of strangers and emotes, emojis,

and a current moment livestream

scrolling chatroom.  The crowds eat, too.

—& I cannot feel like just one.

­

I split up moments like a body ejecting

from the head on the guillotine—only

seeing pieces instead of process and

execution (no pun intended).

Tomorrow doesn’t feel real either,

it just feels like today.  I guess it’s just

built that way.  Hmph.

That gets my sigh when I’m feeling like

a mere zero, or minus one.