Escapism

[Mark]

.


Surrealistically, this is the good neighbourhood
in a dark netherworld. This buzzy simulation
is a patched facsimile of mass memories
downloaded and broadcast organically

He feels no nostalgia these days
for his dazed nights of insomnia,
waiting for the haze of daylight
and the tight ways of paranoia

a million dead on the internet
but a pain in his fingernail
is worse than genocide
for his state of mind
                                               
a red cocking knock on the door -
it’s her from the floor above,
her whore’s minutes offer
more than sucking love

she counts money inside her head
and worries about the swarms
of viruses alive in her eyes,
staining her neon irises

computer man needs food
she thinks, within her aura
of last night’s rubbery pricks
and pheromone tobacco sweat

the elevator cube smells of fire
like flesh melted into a burnt city
the mouth of the machine grins evil
and spits them down a tunnel of bones      

a stone kitchen arcs electricity
sparking between levitating plates,
the globular walls stream acid yellow
eggs amid the heads of screaming pigs

the computer man doesn’t know he’s dead,
and the whore thinks of somehow escaping
goatish men, her tortures and the brain wires.
But all the exits here are closed until tomorrow. 

 

[Dave]

Well not exactly designed to cheer one up on a Monday morning but some great images in there; especially like this:

     the mouth of the machine grins evil
and spits them down a tunnel of bones      

and

 a red cocking knock on the door -


IMO The reduction of the woman to a 'whore' feels very reductionist, she seems a tad too cliché whore - what you write about her hints at more. 

However, the poem flows well and is vivid all the way through. The title could be a little more interesting and reflective of the actual story as it reduces the characters to cyphers where the poem goes to such lengths to describe them in detail and provide empathy.

Great to see you back as always.
Dave



 

[Mark]

Thanks for look and comments, Dave. A reworking of an old piece. Nasty stuff.
I did struggle with a new title. Can't say I'm satisfied in general, the internal rhyme patterns are too inconsistent, for one thing. But anyway, an exercise. Cheers, Mark.