Charged Particles

It came and went without much ado. As most orgasms will. Shiny ornaments hung from the flesh. Bombastic preludes to the epiphanies of the afterglow.

The twilight zone was on. That calm visionary smoking an unfiltered cigarette. telling the future one irony per episode. And the honeymooners too. Spousal abuse used to be funny. Kind of still is. In black and white.

There are too many answers available to us now. So many things there's no reason for us to know. Because we can't change them. All we can do is know it's wrong and wonder when or if it will stop.

It was a fossil in the seat of my pants. Someone dug up. A skeleton from another era. He tried to put back together. Find a form in all this mess. It was just a blemish in the amber were the insect died.

There may still be bones to discover. But what use are they without the meat. The muscle. The reflex that indicates they know we're touching them. Without it we're just molesting mannequins. Assigning different names to a monotonous array of manufactured faces.

We're creatures of consequence. Defined by our delusions of choice. We're artists with so many colors on our palettes, but lacking brushes. Disheartened because the tools of our hearts cosntantly fail us.