The nightly energy
and binge,
come to in addiction
and worlds within worlds.
The wonder of the new
gone in the creaking entertainment,
the soft breath
and the annoyed
viral source of long winded hours.
A love so contrived,
Sociopathic rhetoric,
and celebrity truth,
read through wrong
and right
and broken riots.
Repeated expressions upon its burnt easel.
Barrel meditations
in the cities of trees,
a one way to the city of angels,
and another to the one of sin,
and no metaphor exists in either name
or hour.
6/8/11
James J Jackson 