scene

the opposite of twilight:
a paint-by-numbers sunrise,
norman rockwell realized by a
sleepy computer screen; faces
wide, white, and open; thinking
in digits: how long, how many,
how much do you make? a scene,
a scene i do not want, filled with
background noise bought and
paid for, brought forward in the
most cumbersome, classless
fashion to the foreground,
fake and catastrophic. a
hole to drown oneself in:
deeply drinking, drunk, and don’t
dare question the bitter, biting
aftertaste when you swallow.
this is the scene: this is the new
world, brought to you by levi’s,
brought to you by nike, brought
to you by budweiser, brought to
you by yourself, brought upon
yourself, bought and paid for by
yourself. faces wide,
white,
and open, while the world
closes unrelentingly in upon you.