Discombobulated Particles, Sentient Heat

"Discombobulated Particles of Sentient Heat"

We are discombobulated particles of sentient heat
flowing through the brain stem of infinite confusion
replaying the reality of dead memories:
Shadows
Mimicking
Shadows

Gazing into Narcissus' mirror we see
only the reflected shimmer of
a shiny, cellophane existence.
Love is distilled from fields in Silicon Valley
and drips from drunken mouths
in busted sentences
of dejected
slang.

If I could I'd throw myself,
label and all, onto modernity's curb,
burst into shards of glittered glass,
and still be more whole than this,
this fever-dream
of splintered
doubt.

The garbage men come on Tuesday.
By Friday I'll be just another
shot glass waiting to be emptied.
So tell me anything,
just don't make a sound,
try an shoot me to the moon
when I'm shit-canned
drunk,
face first
in the ground.