SPIRITUALLY SPEAKING
“Spiritually speaking, the towers are still falling.”
I ruined a funeral
On the Family Guy role play server
Facebook memorial
Pages go on and on
This is a topical poem
like a topical cream
I want to heal eczema
which is an unkindness
Pixels on images
are the image’s disease
it's a skin condition
addicted to flashing
A scar can have a scar
Like a car can drive a car
They fall off bridges
Causing silly casualties
I have knicked a finger
With another finger
Typing on a keyboard
Trying to record dreams
We can make a president
Sound like another president
It's very easy to make all space
Have no space to breathe
On a death hard
Drive towards dust worlds
Silhouettes are atomic burned
Into the walls
Of the ossuary
The rainbow road leads to
The kinders in the
Bouncy castle tragedy
The miasma
Of the hikikomori who died
For nothing for no one
Holding his dick for pompeii
I saw the pixel glitter
Around the scars
Where the harm is made
Is where the real is made
You can evaporate blood
You can transcend blood
wdym it's gone?
It has left the terrestrial realm
There are no rules
Sentimental powerposter
The faker the better
This is a type of font
Italic, bold, garbled font
It's an elaborate scheme
All slushwaved screams
To make a face faceless
By giving it all faces
Nobody is real
Go touch astroturf
Here in the bubble vision
A forever night vision
Your prompt skills are mad
Impressive dude
This is me in the 80’s
If this is what the 80’s looked like
Inside of a computer
There are a million insects
At telenight
Time I'm ghosting
The act of becoming a ghost
’s ghost
Algae rhythms
A fishbowl blog space
A cathode ray tube
Hornets nest
This is me in the 90’s
If I was happy in the 90’s
Buffering tinnitus
Loading in dread
Ambient gas leak
Knee jerk dorito smell
Fallout 3 at 3AM
Feeling bad for ghouls’
ghoulfriends
This is a strand of hair
In my mouth
All knowledge of the real world
Is spit transferable
My sweet machine
Flirting with death
In the frutiger aero
Playground promise
But now this is all
Sad clowns at night time
Suicide Twitch streams
And emotional damage rabbits
Pom pom porn
Juggling zombie knives…
They rain down like
Preschool tears
This is the 2000’s
On a flickr trigger
I can hardly remember
The pre SNES snooze
Of baby years
No
Neon
No
Nexus
Between Novembers
Just beautiful nothing
Every Greek symbol
Generation yearning
Windows XP age
Vermiculite ceiling staring
Dust memory
Is acid attacked
By playboy misinformation
And a prescribed iPad
I could rearrange all default
Settings into a klan mask
You watch him transform
Classrooms to angel guts
On a short circuit
Immediate infodump
Of spank banks
Of bubbling bikini pics
Meeting death metal
With cartoon logic
There is a deep disconnect
Blue eyes and blue light
One holds more than the other
One never hurts to look at
One is denim and cosmos
And baby breath and guitar solos
And Nevermind by Nirvana
The other is telling you
To give the computer arms
And legs
So it can love you better
You want to be a Digimon
A leashless fiery unreal
Digimon
With razor blades for hands!
A human in wingdings
I could be a Digimon
if a Digimon had eczema
If you turn out the lights
I’m scared I’ll disappear
Press F
Summon demon
Hold my power button down
Like a pillow on the teddy bear
You wish you could kill
I change my own hue
To
Purple oceans and
Purple skies
Purple skin and
Purple sex
A purple face
Connected by a cord
To my ceiling fan halo
Towards your Kirby’s Dream Course
Your research chemicals
Towards your endchan
Your dragon egg GIF
Towards your Agatha
Her unreeling film eyes
Unlocked by thumbprint technology
Towards ancient visions
Spears of stardust
Freckled ketamine catchup
With the cyanotype eyelid movies
Swells of colour spectrums
Spiderwebs of RGB code
Crackling like a smashed LCD
Flat screen television
An omnium gatherum
Of objects impaled through
Soul hiccups like a triffid
Spitting bones
Settles like a cyberdog
Dies like an error page
Like a netbook
Tamagotchi
Twin Tower
Challenger rocket
Beheaded baby
Dimebag Darrell
Hiroshima
Goodbye
You hide like a Nintendo Wii in the attic
So you can mourn thoroughly
Brian Griffin is dead
But they might bring him back
Art by Casper Kelly.
CASPER KELLY: