The Procrastinationist

(This poem goes out to all of the cameras I see in every grocery store and every building lobby. To those two luscious jugs that hang below the NYPD Security Boxes on every other street light on every major street.)

the camera is my lover
it’s clarity is my vision
it haunts my dreams
it holds me back

the camera needs me
my constant attention
it scorns my affection
but never looks away

but for all its sway
the camera doesn’t know
my heart
my mind

the truth

what if there were no madmen
except the ones in charge

what do you do
when everyone believes a lie

how do you cry
what can i say

is there any real hope
for the sane to be free