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Silence Exile and Crumpets
 
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Saturday, March 12th, 2011

Time Event
12:10a
For the troubles of two of my friends
Therapeutic villanelle

There's calming music on the internet
No matter what your trouble or your pain
Listen to Bach he'll help you to forget

Nothing's inevitable. Fate's not set
in stone. Someday you will feel joy again
There's calming music on the internet

To kill yourself would be to place a bet
that sun will never rise, there's just night rain
Listen to Bach he'll help you to forget

Think of the friendly people you've not met
who'll think you're charming, witty and quite sane
There's calming music on the internet

Think of the gorgeous girls who'll make you wet
and lust for you – no, thinking that's not vain
Listen to Bach he'll help you to forget

No matter what the follies you regret
despair's the folly that you must disdain
there's calming music on the internet
Listen to Bach he'll help you to forget.
12:50a
Cosmology

Great glowing stars will wisp away in dust
their light will fade. If there were still a sky
by then – there won't be – we'll stand, you and I,
looking at empty black. For all things must

end. Maybe the stars will fall and return
into a fire cloud that will concentrate
into a single point. No place, no date.
Time has rolled up. There's nothing left to burn

or fire takes every scrap. I can't despair
because desire is also like a flame
that burns us up, or turns itself to blame
that separates us and we fade. Yet there

when everything has ended, we'll remain
All passes save this passion and this pain.
1:12a
For Angelica
Fembot

Her lips are lush and soft and wet and pink.
My tongue explores until it finds some wires.
At such a moment, everyone enquires
'My darling, what the fuck?' 'Not what you think'

she says, 'not what it looks like.' But it's true
she lies a little just to keep me calm
then takes apart a panel in her arm.
Inside there's lights and dials. A taser too

so she could paralyze me with a pinch
if she should want to. They're here to observe.
I should have known from the too-perfect curve
of her arched eyebrow. Every single inch

is engineered to please. And so we screw.
She tells me, that for flesh, I'm quite good too.

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