Stars Misalign Again

A standard voyeur in the endless forum 

of faux human interaction. 

I used to comment sometimes, 

but figured I’d start miming in the streets 

my stupid thoughts, feelings, 

and faux ideologies. 

Today everyone’s their own 

television host and star guest. 

My eyelids clothespin-open, 

bloodshot and willing. 

Watching the host/guest combo 

personally chosen to dull any need of mine 

from waning. 

She needs one second, guys! 

To pull up the Taco Bell menu online. 

A thirty-something’s aspiration to try something new 

each time she orders. 

I have concluded comfortably 

in my audience member chair, 

is twice a day. 

You used to be sweet and enamored with me. 

But I have left the oven running. 

Now your little polymer arms and legs 

have indefinitely intersected. 

A singular glob I no longer feel like trusting 

the process with and reconstructing. 

Astrology use to be sweet to me for the first time ever. 

But now it’s back to being dumb again. 

What a fucking white girl thing to believe in. 

Whoa! Hey! 

There’s my big, blinking, red, sign! 

I finally feel that months-long-yearning for any comfort 

quickly resolve. 

No. Not really.