Casualties of the Times: Electric Snow

Electric Snow


This is beyond us now
This is no longer ours
To take
Back and say
That isn’t what we meant

This isn’t funny now
Hey, whatever helps you sleep
Through
The cries
Outside of your window

This isn’t what I wanted
But my desires have no weight
In
The shape
Of things… oh

The bodies are
Buried in electric snow

Can we talk about something else?
Everyone – quiet for the season final
I wonder
Who he’ll pick
Well, of course it must be love

Turn off the lights; I can’t hear myself
That taped voice must be someone else
I’d never
In my life
Now it’s all over the web

This isn’t what I wanted
I thought the ends outweighed the means
In
The shape
Of things… oh

The bodies are
Buried in electric snow…
The bodies are
Buried in electric snow

* * *

Constellations…
Cultist promise…
Oh, your grander…
Pocket fluff
A fractured thought
Hold that... hang on…
Cell phone priority
Metabolic dislocation

How should I react to this?
Is what it is… if ‘is’ is this
We’re so far off course
We’re so far off course
I’m so far off course
I’m so far off course
This… is… beyond us now


January 12, 2008