at the beep

i had a dream once i could fly

and to the ends of the universe i soared

but all i found were rafters in the sky

supporting a dome and nothing more

there i was without reason or cause

too bewildered to do ought but pause

so i returned to our haunted planet

of dying waves and shifting granite

nothing to herald, nothing to quote

upon awaking i picked up my pen and wrote:

 

you’ve reached a random number given to a random phone on a random day. for the empty essence of existence is exemplified by meaningless motion of provision for our temporal needs and prolonged by a series of escapes. if you are still convinced your message is of consequence then at the beep leave a brief but detailed analysis of our complacency with the sufficiency of pleasure in satiating humanities existential plight.

 

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