It’s my unrelenting plan
to escape to the future
at any time now, to a time
where the ones greeting me
want only to offer the knowledge
and dynamics of their era.

We’re all quite familiar with that little bit of
science fiction by now–the storied
advanced civilization that doesn’t so much mind
a past-person stumbling upon their developments.

Ya see, these folks would require
astute pupils for their lessons
in temporal psychology, so
if an intuitive person
were to find themselves ensconced
in such an environment,
these lovely future guardians
would instinctively root out
the nature of said snoop’s intentions–
not to mention their accent
or parlance of the time
they oh so unwittingly represent.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Drawing composed August, 2019–
rollerball pen and dry erase marker on printer paper

Harmony [VISUAL]

Suppose for a minute
that you write the odds
for this universe,
should such a position exist.

Would you change things
based on your previous experiences?
Would you consider
the entire scope and slope of existence,
careful not to upset any balances?

Whatever you do, rest assured
that something will go wrong.
That’s just how it goes, baby.

Oblivion – 15:51GMT

Did you think the world would end?

I’m regretting that I ended up in here;
can’t read or write or draw.

Yesterday (it feels like yesterday)
I detected a 6% chance of oblivion
coming on, like a light precipitation
stalled by the height of the clouds.

Were it to have more gravity,
a poor excuse for brevity,
I do genuinely feel like the world
would have stood a chance to–at least–
become toast, a crispy roach’s paradise.

But as it stands now, every day
of our consumption
is another plastic nail
in the coffin of our lovely carelessness.

I really wish I could use my arms.