catharcyst: 02/01/2008

catharcyst

Wednesday, February 27, 2008 by Billy

The Light

How many more light bulbs to twist
before the everlasting light dies
and am left between dreams and queens
raping fountains for holy water
in the subterranean asylum of my winter vigil?

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Monday, February 11, 2008 by Billy

Duracell Lady

I see the Duracell lady for the first time gliding into the train like a phantom. She has come to cater to our electronic lusting. Her batteries will keep us connected. She’s another impulsive hustler who has tapped into the matrix that enslaves us.
I watch her as she hustles every seat with half crazed eyes and gnarled fingers dangling the commerce. I can hardly understand her sales pitch but it never elaborates.
Sometimes they find change. Most times they stay hidden in their karma. She disappears. Contempt? I wait for vitriol. She glides out of the car like a phantom.
I saw her yesterday. She seemed erratic. Maybe she had lost her rhythm. She stood by an exit mumbling. I hoped that she hadn’t lost her hustle.

Labels: duracell, matrix, train