Dear Members and Consumers, please dear god try not to speak too loudly or with the dirtiness of language. The sounds you make should never get any closer, never get any bigger, and they should not acknowledge your inevitable cheapness. Just open up your mouths one after the other in order and avoid disjuncture, disclosure, and sharp turns.
(There is disjuncture and we are weary. There is disjuncture, and not only do people sense it, they make note of it. There is disjuncture and people are taking screen shots. The disjuncture is between a useful observation and the scene’s actual complexity: this discrepancy may cause many people, one after the other, to forget his & her rebellion and/or appear very flat. Dear god please.)
This begins in a typical environment but the narratives within slip in and out of occult archetypes. The roles we play synchronize and anesthetize our multi parts. We can usually count on commentary from The True Believer, The Chaotic, The Skeptic, The Mystic, and a young and ambitious reporter, but we still end up identifying some kind of internal failure and crying in afternoon meetings.
(If only it was a simple failure to heed. Or a great failure of suffering, A failure to form acute institutional memories…)
Imagine how a meeting with one of us must go. Meet in the morning. A conversation with a leader is difficult, for it is never easy to have a conversation with an asshole.
The commentaries on the commentaries have meant the world to us, dear god, as though we could please.
And do we owe layers to others, and should we consistently employ strawmen, and should we over-reach conclusions just to make managers feel delicious.
second most layer of sky
I wish on
birds, a margin of error
I am evinced by your call, fantasy at last lost, at last deciphered:
by quirk of fate, I take myself
as I never was to be
little did you know
those birds
were my best friends