where the writers are
The World as We Know It (Kind of Joking, but not Really)

Working with
the recreation crew
we wait and wait
and open hearts
to chew.
No more free time
it’s wholly hustle
making it merry
for everyone.

Laugh
and adore
your job
while others
spend time
worrying
how secure
their income is
and spending it
on outdoor activities,
or dissociative devices.
You are welcome
to leave
any time
it pleases.

You are welcome
to lose
that wealth
(that you never had)
on poor choices
and other people’s
interest(s).
Make an investment
in time
with no one
in particular
with neighbors
(not fighting)
with family
and enemies,
hugging
your knees
and telling them
about your favorite
(law) suits,
brands and labels
you’ve given
to giant concerns
for pennies
and peanuts;
For nothing
and for the shirt
off your back,
half a jacket
shorn in two
by horse-
back rider
looking down
on you.

Stumble along beaches
drunk on lack
of life.
Forget your troubles
but you must
return to them.
If you choose to flee,
they will wait.
But you can pretend
if your imagination
is greater
than the wealth.

Climb the sand bank.
Look down
at the city
from dunes,
hear crashing
waves,
heartbreak.

Make it up to her.
The universe
is kind
of joking
but not
really.

It wants you
to spend your last
meal with strangers.

Living it up.
Listening to them
fuck
through the walls
of your subconscious.

Through the mimicry
of lies.

Through all the forests
and hills,
make way
for oil,
for toxic chemicals,
or mountain climbers,
for trendy microchips,
or travelling gymnasts.

Make your place
on this dot.
It turns out you
there is only
this one
multi-dimensional space
that can be
anything
you want.

Reading in the Gängeviertel