I loiter because there is no tree line to break to.
Inside my skull are four cameras and five microphones.
Outside my skull, they say I’m outnumbered
thirty billion to one.
Nobody knows where the video goes.
L o i t e r i n g .
There used to be a tree line to break to.
A place where dropouts, insomniacs,
and the otherwise damned could wander
in the foggy hours.
Somewhere I could face my fear of being alone
without being watched
for what the fear made of me.
There used to be a separation of Mind and State;
a separation of Church and Body.
Now the State sees my mind,
and the Church has nailed me to a cellular tower
disguised as a tree.
Excommunicated
for my love of the natural man.
I only wanted to be real.