blurred

from time to time, I get caught up in the silliness of social media too, and must remind myself how silly it all is

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are there enough pages

are the chambers of your heart sliced thin
with enough pain between the parchment
to make you an interesting read
have the edges of your soul been sharpened
despite the dull devils trying to wear them down
are those cobwebbed secrets in the recesses of your mind
sell-able
will anyone pull a star down from heaven
and slap it on your blemished skin
the thoughts that crawl up your beading flesh when lights go dim
can those fading illuminations stage a moment
amid a sun-packed universe of perfection
what makes your story
more interesting than your lover’s
will there be enough pages to sew together
after you tear your life apart
sculpt woman

names not numbers

warm queen
so many words shoved into meaningless bits and bytes
thoughts tamped under layers before (God) has the chance to critique
duty convened by push button judgement
‘digit’less (bots) too crown
here in push button world
eager barefoot followers just one click away
might be (bot) love not the hand of (God) at work
light candles as ridiculous offerings to the muse
diaphanous paws stretch out to disinterested deities

rising Indus will breach her banks
before anything comes to your dry fingers
or the smoking mitt catches a paperball

impotent offerings will not ignite belly fire 
passionless minds shovel crap
your muse isn’t coming back

click away my friend
bottom up excitement over those (cold) hot digits
finger following only after proper servicing
does (he) like (her) back does (she) like (her) back if (he) hasn’t seen (their) front
it is all a front for backdoor courage
stay true to the brown polyester child
popcorn and balloons
names not numbers
names not numbers
names not numbers

do you ever wonder
how many followers God has
not that it matters
I was just wondering