Every era anachronism, soft-shoeing to pantomime beats
Dangling pocket watch timing forgotten childhood feats
Hipster/luck paradigm in warehouse incited dance
Without reactionary violence inherited solely by first world chance


A Kinko's employ falls neon among dark
Clutching Sharpied flyer promising ecstatic city spark
Vintage stitched passion now apathetic through wash
Ironic ink cultured to argue Rodeo Dr. posh


Abandoning his Honda to compete at shining fixed gears
PBR bandying with pill swallowed fears
Bass sounds beating through trundled asphalt
Looping electronics whispered among vaults


"There is liberty in youth; you are nothing to fear,”
Juxtaposed with vexation, the subconscious leers
"Reveal yourself, ghost,” he yells at the lot
Nothing uncovered here between his unconscious plot


Trembling fingers twitching to be warmed
Heart pounding deeply before logic unformed
A car pulls forward, gaggling of hip speech
Hoping communal to forget reason without reach


"Hey man,” is shouted, “do you know the cover?”
Five dollars, I think,” said to corporeal other
With that soothing exchange the world slows to flesh
Intentionality remains with nothing to mesh


Sidestepping quickly to a line of no blame
ID'ed for $5 dollars, continuity the same
Once immersed in the darkness there is nothing to fear
These hallucinations impossible when there is nothing to hear

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