Breached field data collectors

destroying a sense of being is as easy as ever

A repetition
Let’s explain it all again–
Would that not make a game?
Choosing sanity, over and over
While beginning to lose your name
This happened, I was,
They told me this:
Fail it all for projected bliss
Or lose the ability to sing
We were given no right choice
No repaired piping,
No strengthened voice
Just the option
To become the unrepairable
Or live in our faded tent,
Until we’ve spent
The rest of our altered lives:
Keep talking, telling, describing
The all of everything
Or expect to be forgotten;
Left out in the rain

Just say never
Could we ever be real?
I’m tired
Of reaching out
To get a grip
Before falling
Off a cliff
Could you ever tell me?
I’m tired
Of hiding
Behind pseudonyms;
Building confidence
In what isn’t
Could I ever fix you?
I’m tired
Of lying
Yes, untrue words,
But also motionless;
Staring at what isn’t
Could it be repairable?
I’m tired
Of catching water,
Patching cracks
With vines
Maybe the answer
Will never be yes

The loss of spoken word
When fewer thoughts are verbalized,
Connection becomes stigmatized:
Expands the unknown
Our fingertips our voice,
We are left with no choice
We cannot start again
Disproving endless customs
Atrophying preset systems–
Will silence lead us there?
Trapped in the comfortable,
Afraid of being vulnerable
We are our own prison
Pen and type cannot stutter,
But if words we will not utter
An art will disappear
If screens back all our thoughts
The ages are but rot
All is stopped by innovation

Pen to page
The surest hint of truth
Providing polished couth
Set before, unmindf’lly sworn
To reminisce the pain of thorns
From topographic youth

An ode to forms of sight
Refracted by cool light
To elope and lose all hope
Is seen through a narrowed scope
But carved into the night

A paper melody
In something you can see
Written down or printed out
Painting a whole world, no doubt
Unquantitatively

Bitterly human
Looking ahead to what hides far behind
Sour words seem to swirl around through the mind
Recalling the past works, not to rewire,
But, as held in the now, provides fuel for the fire
Life bleeds into rivers, as blood flows through veins
Releasing th’unfounded; shattering panes
Collecting the horizons explored in their travels
The conscience of mortal man is unraveled
Though straightly moving–the shaft of man’s arrows
Life is still pierced, its waterway narrows
If there is blood in the streams and lead in their hearts
What are they doing, but falling apart?

ALAN
“Lighten our darkness,”
The world beseeches
Blinded by the light
Of their own antithesis

Their flavor of light
Gives naught to their eyes
But pollutes their soul

Even darkness is no more sure
The lights will never go out
Kept on by lygophobic fear
Under the streetlamp’s redoubt

The electricity of hearts
Has brought light from the start
Even the unnatural

The switch has been cemented
Those who can yearn to undo
Have only perpetuated
What time has deceptively accrued