The mirror sulks,
the expressionless face
of a myriad's tidal awakening
that always happens when the clean linens arrive.

A pressure cloak
of hushed expediency and forced calligraphy
send buttons and their twine
rushing to the floorboards below.

Brainless updates
of outdated patches
that come with the latest kit
and are required to sign on to life,
come free with shipping and handling,
and further handling still.

A circus truck stopped in front of my house.
I had never seen a circus truck before.
I'm going to tell you about circus trucks.
I'm going to stop talking about circus trucks.

The dial ticked
the tiny seconds between,
finding my plastic knife,
rearranging the peanut butter inside the jar,
(to make it appear only half eaten)
and tapping with my free hand
a plastic spoon,
to the beat of some Descendants track
I couldn't no longer remember the name of...

Cattle held silent inside the goldmine
smile with their eyes impaled on hot knives
as the software that performs such services,
downloads the newest license agreement,
that apparently has to do with morality of some sort.

10/30/2014