no idea

Metric fantasies.
Punjabi dance.
One lone swan on the winter's river
followed by his hollow vee, nothing more.

Germs of craziness
inciting to revolutions
the disaggretative individualism
of modern theology,
passing therefor,
of me
i am we are
the center
but only until you are gone again
your perversity, questions, disallowed.

It's the gorgeous tiny chicken machine show
joost and hulu
facebook myspace
me me me me me me me
and the select few i allow as "friends"
and the hundred they know
and they know two hundred and they know two hundred and they know two huundred
and we know none of you
friendless hiding in the numbers.

Strangers with candy
brain aneurysms waiting to pop
like so many cerebral zits
whose pus the ignorance our survival thrives
We think.