if this is a sim, let's level up

 i'm sure the gods get weary of watching us

make the same mistakes. time to unplug, tweak

the rules, restart. 

*   

i mean, that's what i'd do.

noah get the boat slash reddit

is all the doc you need. no link here

because i like mystery and effort.

*((

the clouds today drizibble

wet grey water color. is the sun

out there somewhere? in the sim

my subroutines are running on under this 

gray obfuscation while fires

 block western skies,  a volcano smokes

errupts in yellowstone, haiti, vesusvius

pompeii, krakatoa,  st helen's, fuji, precarious

 boils exploding seperate tragedies 

on the human waste race

 swallowed in the mist so 

our screams can't even be seen. 

*

yeah, that's how i'd play it. the sudden unplugging

would not be satisfactory enough. after all, some them

seem almost like me. i programmed them for that purpose.

i have to let them sort it out amongst themselves. 

when the mist clears in the sim, the ball will be empty.

meanwhile, i have my code to decipher.

*

one time, i may not obscure the visions.

but i'll never turn up the sound.

*

so i'm having iced coffee on the porch.

washed my old curtains, threw away

the shredded ones, used a thicker one

to sheild me better 

from the neighbots.

i can't remember much

of the past years. the sting of the dramas

the tickle of comedies. my screenplay dulls

the further it gets from birth. i mean,

come on, those tropes i lived were aged

when i lived them. so what if i was in

the first wave of cougars, the vanguard of internet

chat addiction, the early days of diassociated thinking?

it was a hyperconnected replay of all the old stories-

biblical, koranish even, one might say

vedic. or like, say, civilization, from 

the soldiers'pov.

+++

and i'm sitting here in my luxury trailor

with the rain comin down like a ol blues song

and somewhere a kiknapped kid plays with his auntie

while his mom frantically tries to reach him

while awaiting the sword of solomon.

and she hurts and it's real and she's sobbing

yet her child's laughter and joy in 

the arms of his aunt, who is also happy,

is just as solid. and can you say it's kidnapping

if mama ran off and left him with me

because she knew she wasn't safe to be around

and how can you ask me to give this 

beautiful fragile child back to crazy -

potential or actual.  he is my child.

i am village.

he is not your child. you didn't nuture

him in the womb or push him out or worry

about him, give anything in the world

to save him, live in fear  his dying

would be your fault, my fault, i am not

crazy i was not crazy when i held him close

and went to work to make sure he was housed

and clothed and fed i found him a great daddy

and people who love him so help me to help me

keep him safe. and you won't even let me speak 

to him. when i get him back, and i will

you will never see him again.

()()(

bloomberg should do a 10k challenge in floriduh.

like, pay registered demos to actually go out and vote.

the trouble with writing outside is i can smoke the whole time. 

like anything that will compel change the protesters on both sides

have gone too far. where does the  power lie? ambushed cops

vs right wing vigilantes is not a match of reprehinsible actions

to determine who's right. bad boys in stripes of black and white

suits of orange or blue, it's nothing new, right and left, in and out

no need to shout, a whisper will do, if it's wishpered to you

the ones in charge of conspiracies, these knees will bend,

the fabric's rend reveals those who are out for me n you

such minor cogs, machine won't miss, but if it's true

conspiracy makes it fit. 

damn my rhyme game sucks, it's good i don't spit.

here's some company come

in the middle of co vid.

%%%

so it looks like my prayers are unanswered

and i gotta pay some bills. livin in the real world