I am*

I am an endless flesh-coloured fractal

circle after circle

I am the tendrils of a weeping willow, brushing the tips of the grass

and the infiniteness of the sky.

I am the tea leaves, steeping in the springs,

not quite detached from the withered plant body.

I am not profundity incarnate.

the atrium

two equal four of a regular size

(giant) infuriating stairs

only lead to walls

with premade slits

perpetually open

stuffed with gusto

and

the tv never stops

voices

blaring across the space

acoustics: perfect

Do you want someone used ?

                        someone touched by others?

                        someone passed around ?

someone who will do for you nothing more than they

                                                          would do for another ?

someone who sells themselves ?

someone that ruined lives ?  

someone who can manipulate with ease ?

the heart and soul behind corruption ?

someone who is little more than a trophy ?

                                                               Money is dirty.

reality t.v.

the name is ironic

misleading

I don't watch it

                      (but neither do you)

so engrossed,
its less watching
than vicarious living