THIS IS A POEM ABOUT CONSCIOUSNESS 2.19.17

I still probably abide by the Matrix theory. We are in a simulation. I imagine, ideally, we are being controlled by an alien race. If I can see what they look like before I die, I will be satisfied. 


2.19.17


An immense inhalation

is all it takes to remind myself

that I am here.

 

Otherwise, I forget the obligations

of being flesh and blood, of having

not one consciousness but two.

 

While one remembers, the other forgets. While

one erases and annihilates and destroys, the other

enters the dreams of a thousand restless souls

 

who themselves are lost and desperate

for guidance. I’ve learned this: it’s not that

I want my life to be different; being someone else,

 

anyone else, is enough for me.

Get me away from myself

and I’ll be fine.


Written at 12:39 at night, in my office, in Agoura Hills CA, while listening to the steady ticking of a newly purchased wall clock. It is round and black and cost five dollars from Target. 

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