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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=530533" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Cave</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The light that emits from my computer screen<br>Asperses shadows like a music box projector's<br>Ceiling diorama—<br>		They spin around and around, <br>Swirling in the aleatoric symphony<br>Of indetermined notes, <br>Ingeminated until I fall asleep—<br>			In my mind.<br>I don't want to look up, <br>I don't want to look up, <br>I don't want to look up—<br>	Because if I do, <br>	I might realize<br>	That where I am, <br>	Hooked on the O/S<br>	Of terminal attachment, <br>	A besotted addiction<br>To buzz words that rattle me from my consciousness<br>And quake me through the cracks of the pop culture lifestyle.<br>I only see a ventose orator, <br>Up at the pulpit, <br>Preaching mediocre thoughts, <br>And banal blah blah blah blah blahs, <br>		And what am I learning here by reading this? <br>	Why<br>Do I read this? <br>		I could do other things with my time, <br>		Couldn't I? <br>No, I'm chained to the carpet I'm rolling over, <br>Burning my elbows into scabby skin ash, <br>Peeling away my sun-burnt arms for no reason<br>Other than to watch what I can't see or feel.<br>		My nervous system is shutting down, <br>		Each synapses is becoming indurate, <br>		So I can feel like a sponge—<br>Which has no nervous system, by the way—<br>			And soak in<br>			Whatever<br>			Boastful basking<br>			I choose<br>			Today, <br>Or some meaningless news story that says, <br>&quot;Studies show&quot; without giving links to what that study is, <br>So I can verify that the information is pertinent<br>Of just taken out of context the same way Fox News<br>Will splice through all the words they found in a dictionary<br>To form a single, not always complete sentence.<br>	I think I might surround myself with all these empty<br>	Activities to keep myself from feeling empty, <br>	Telling myself how stupid everyone else is<br>	To avoid telling myself<br>	That I simply don't understand anything—<br>	Though I wish I did—<br>		And, by rejection, I prove that there is something else, <br>Something that I can believe in, <br>Something that I just haven't found yet, <br>		So I Google, Google, Google—<br>Then I wonder if they're watching what words I type into their search engine<br>Which makes me wonder why I'm so paranoid about people reading my<br>Information when I'm not trying to hide anything, <br>							Or so I suppose.<br>I annex my thoughts in the morass of public domain<br>To hope that I might feel more accepted—<br>Even if I outwardly proclaim that it doesn't make much<br>Of a difference to me what people think<br>								(LIAR) .<br>		But, if I look up, <br>		For only a second, <br>		At 2 AM, when everyone<br>		Should actually be sleeping, <br>		I'll notice how quiet the world really is, <br>		That the reality of things<br>		Is that I'm actually alone<br>		And nobody is talking to me, <br>		Watching me, <br>		Collecting my thoughts so they can be harvested<br>		In a machine of mass-bombardment and resignation.<br>I'm totally alone, <br>And that makes me scared.<br>This is why we use the internet.<br>Nobody listens anymore, <br>So we call to each other, <br>&quot;Listen to me, listen to me, nobody listens to me, <br>So please listen to me, &quot;<br>And that's what we pretend to do.<br>At the same time, <br>We don't want to be fully honest; <br>We don't want to expose ourselves anymore than we already are; <br>We want to be like the people that millions of dollars<br>On reality TV because they don't have to do anything<br>To make enough money to never have to do anything again, <br>Or like the movie stars that popularize our illusions.<br>Then, the one day, we see the truth, <br>Ruffling out from behind the nonexistent paper<br>That makes the pages we sift through, <br>And it's not a pretty thing, <br>	So we hide it<br>	The way we hide ourselves, <br>Hoping we only remember what diffused sunlight was<br>When our eyes, pupils wide open, just soaked up<br>A whopping globule of solar plasma<br>That now flares through our brains, <br>Frying everything we used to know, <br>Giving us a blindness that should help us see.<br>		It doesn't.<br>So we, <br>Or at least I, <br>Turn back around, <br>And try to sit down, <br>Continue with the perpetual waste<br>Of my time, <br>But I can't help<br>Being unsettled.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Tim+Stensloff">Tim Stensloff</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=530533" data-title="Cave de Tim Stensloff" data-description="The light that emits from my computer screen
Asperses shadows like a music box projector's
Ceiling diorama—
		They spin around and around, 
Swirling in the aleatoric symphony
Of indetermined notes, 
Ingeminated until I fall asleep—
			In my mi..."></div>
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