Carlos 3/52

Dispatches from the Future : 2018 Retrospect

That was the year the mirrors threw up on us
and likewise the self facing cameras collapsed into deep hibernations
and so it went, that the only way to feel beautiful
was to do things to make ourselves feel beautiful
was to find other people who would stare at you in a way that made you feel beautiful

That was the year the alarm clocks all leapt out the windows in unison
and marched down the streets and sang in a chorus
lead by the twirling baton of the Doomsday Clock
We started waking up when other people started calling our names
and if we were alone
we had to learn to listen to the sounds of our passions
stirring into a board frenzy
ripping apart our newspapers and throw pillows
begging for release into the outside world

That was the year of countless midnights
crawling out of the water
draped in plastic
fishbones windchimes rattling in their hair

The year our heroes and constellations fell like dominoes
and the night was dark dark dark
It was the beginning of an age without stars
and sacred cows
and so it went for a while
that we had no Gods or idols
That was the year so many of us set out
to scale the mountains and become the new beacons

That was the year we started to starve the algorithms
The year we unplugged

Of thousands of maiden voyages with no destination
of kingfishers in constant stampedes across the skies

It wasn't the year we broke the shackles
But it was the year we cataloged them
the year we went into our basements and opened up the boxes
dust, filling our sinuses
the year we went to our knees
to overturn the rocks
to sift through the mud to find them