the reason i called

was to go over things
but everyone’s dead at the end of the line
everyone here has gone dead
whereif to glissade to life in rome
ascend, as it were
abandon all norcalian and rough
hide in the silk
veer into quiet dark rooms of comfort
and sleep
who still holds nobly in the face of ten million dollars
who still just survives
who keeps the ground down
it is possible that
the happy rich are not real
the comfortable and breezy are automata
on this stage where the stressed
and the heads-in-the-stocks and assorted ne’er-do-wells
beggars in prague and swimming polar bears
starving bad artists
and the not very pretty
all live.
so that if you win the lottery or find god, it is death
the small death of automation
you Break On Through To The Other Side
and your life stays here?

speed up everything and we look like ants
i’ll call again later when you’re not alive
you’re freaking me out with this silence
i need sound

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