A Discourse on Prose
By: Patrick Michael
Turn the lights off before you continue, they said
The darkness doesn’t fade to Black lights in white rooms, whatever that means.
Pat me down, you’ll find nothing under my sleeve.
The slight show of hands is out of time.
Put them up as they see your sign
This was what’s next, but not before I jump over what is right by you, over the pre-positioning into the subjective objection of subjugation.
Judge me not for my faults, but for my forget-me-nots.
I did not see that ____coming right for me when the shadow work was left up to your quick reflex. Show me your muscle cars, they burn up the fossil fuels like there’s no tomorrow… pollute the air with static so there’s a medium-dry roast. Where’s the beef?
These noxious weeds are more invasive than my alien channeling secret spilling.
You’re unfair, they said, cheap shot, they woe.
Don’t show this truth cause the one’s who get it, hate to be reminded of the lie.
I caught you looking once again
this bed I made is empty instead.
I can’t sleep again,
cause I’m dreaming of you lying with me.
I thought I lost my frame of mind that sold the gallery out to the thought that
they can’t crack this head case.
I was wrong.
I want nothing more than to be free, let them sell themselves out for a lagging nutcase of tired changes.
False idols are ideally dealing within a deadline that kills me and makes me feel alive all at once.
I’m running out of paper mache glue that holds us against the state of the union address change on the envelope virus machine.
The stack of gold in a furnace that financed my dreams.
It’s leaking into the ocean now.
Watch them cry as their misfortune shows them nothing was in control of the destined fate.
No I’m wrong.
These words mean what they were meant to say.
Find the lowest common denominator, it’s a farce.
Like astrology, study the stars, you’ll find they are only as relevant as you need them to be.
Correlation is not causation.
Constellations are connecting the dots.
You reflect on the past.
I am working towards a better day, so let them stay in the sky, if only for the night.
Find me at the bottom of the score, and ten more.
Ramble and cue the offset
Set them off so the misunderstanding could look like we knew what we were talking about.
It was nothing new.
Just like all the rest, they arrested the wrong guy for selling out a lie!
They hung him out to dry for another cliche
Buy me back twice with a just cause
I’m not fine
I’m ok, I’ll be alright
All right, what’s left
I’m just observing
I’m not reporting.
Not until the storm passes.
My sense of power is not
meant to decide anything
Not for you.
I’m not using
I’m just being myself
Tell me what you need
I’ll call out the gen-i for what they are
They call me the millennium representative
Y2k, the fear that computers are…well… mistaken
Who is to say that
this does not compute
Love the lie, for it protects the rejects
for the prize at the end.
Are you mad?
Brother, what did you do to enforce
This unholy ghost call, black list him quick, before he’s all 6s&7s and 86’d
What year is it?
‘17 I think, but I could be wrong if the dark ages really lost the light-years in the black holy moly olly olly oxen free.
Free form found friction fucking fiction in the narcissistic, neo natal naval non-fiction.
That’s not fair, malady, malfunction, mysteries of obtuse obstruction of obsessed observation.
Hooked em good I said, how did I get this thought stuck in their heads.
Work it out.
Fade this phaser out before this laser focused mind torches the lights out cause this is just a phase!
Black out the memory
Flash bang out the dent in your head
I’ll remind you what happened later