An Homage to the Lost Pearls of Wisdom on Ancient Computers

Abort! This collapsed coping mechanism has left me alamort I was just a shameful conjugal visit And a muse for playing with fire You never questioned me and that's how I know you’re not innocent You're a walk on a frozen pond; Irritated on the surface but internally pernicious I'm an autotelic where my adulation is the dripping ink And your scorn is the water running over it Be your own crisis hotline when the shame kicks in And pierces me like a non-reciprocal “you are not alone in this” Museum of shortcomings or gallery of honorable attempts? Ineffable, but I can’t help myself Relaying this information is the only way I can move on I'm seeing glimpses of something I should talk to in the corner But the hand I'm extending has the strength of a signal fire underwater This can’t be how this ends I'm disturbingly calm because the dejection hasn't kicked in yet I put your name on the bullet so everyone knows you were the last thing that went through my head You're lacking daytime context With a fallible idiolect Pick up a book and read So a tree can sigh relief that there's life after death Will heaven open up if I try to heal by decathecting? My throat is raw from screaming to gods who just aren’t listening Burdened in ustulation while you pare me from earth's core It's everything you and distance wanted and more I'm seeing glimpses of someone I could relate to in the corner But I’m dissected by the dichotomic voices of psychosis versus candor Maybe this really is how it ends; Dying lethargically as I look at the nonexistent watch on my hand Because time is a construct Like the plot we say we lost but we outgrew it before we learned how to love The immortality of fiction is beautiful but cruel The tacendas come in slicing but they leave just as quickly The remedies leaves me gutted and demoralized like dangling poultry A tear dilates into a lake of drowning imposter syndrome Do you admire me like falling snow? Or find me too fervidly frigorific to get to know? Ironic because the visions of you in my head Are so chilling, I get delusional and start ripping off my clothes My tongue lost the motivation of sound before I could even think I'm an autotelic where my adulation foreordains the dripping ink