Community Service

Picking up the trash that lay Within the inner wasteland That resembles the same desert Of the Real Filled with simulacra The half-assed simulation of actually picking up the trash Repeats Over and Over. Until I looked at an internal clock and watched it melt. The residue stained the jagged peaks The summit over which the clock hovered Cried “Insanity”. After continually shrieking, The high pitched noise resonated within my head and bounced back and forth off the walls within my skull. Until I dropped my makeshift pitchfork used for picking up Simulacra in the form of trash. Then I killed myself Temporarily. Just long enough to surface within the present moment in live. Only to revisit my tomb. Over And Over.