The Absence of Wavelength

Black Lagoon

Your mood music, viral, could infect
a cavernous soul incepting, deceiving itself,
believing you know the lonely exist.
I feel your breathing, filling
an empty one dreaming. Glowing
is on the horizon, nearing a lone survivor.

Wind whips sand into this artificial eye.
How can I cry for a hologram interceding?
Beached beneath neon palms, flashing,
waving in dark, blasted heat-breezes gust
a thin one down cement divides — luminous,
painted, remind where to find a crosswalk.

There’s nowhere to hide. Reflecting glass decides.
Echoes. Dreams. Echoes. Screams. Soft…
I’m not here. I was never here. I don’t exist.
Words persist — words I resist. Why insist
anything should be meaningful, at all?
It’s what you want to say, I have inferred.


6.23.22
t.26.22 incepted