it dies each listen,
repetition,
repeat enabled, genocide,
digging a mass grave
with my mind
for the same song time and again,
each play a hollow shell of its essence
killed, gutted by a thought or lack thereof,
the lack of newness due to lack of imagination
through this arrogance-induced
omniscience—megalomania.
seeing an emptied husk,
fooling true experience with my mind,
I waste what cannot be wasted,
I bury what's still alive,
but am the sole victim of the crime.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
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