This internet search of myself
Helps not to restore
But worsens the lies and distortion
I besiege upon myself.
This Ebay surfing
And Blog entries and Gmail inquiries
Stall my Word Gordon Rule paper
Due tomorrow, at the beginning of a new day.
This poem helps me only to escape
With no real distance from my hopes and dreams,
From my mis-hopes and dis-dreams
The background music of Kurt Rosenwinkle remains there, unheard.
The Windows Messenger is not open
There, my love probably awaits me
But the Me that will enter will be one of complete stupor
A person oblivious of all that he has accomplished with her.