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http://www.alansondheim.org/ap.mp4
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virtual worlds
they get stuck in this life and yearn to return to the other
they are held back by memory and skin which falls from their seasons
they cannot move but are made from layers torn from their flesh
you are stuck in pain, you are held back, you cannot move
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small models of splayed and abstracted avatars in pain
they are fleeing from it
radio sounds from antique radio equipment
you lean against glass and hear the flesh of the earth
photographs of a small child doomed to make these things
the child is doomed to listen to these things too
images of dead soldiers against your eyes
you cannot think anything but images of dead soldiers
books of martyrs and tortures and torments closed
you cannot read through covers telling your cold future
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lament maquette for the dead as the world oozes human beings
human beings come forth and gather their dead and die
the virtual is the pain of the real and an escape
the virtual is powered by the pain and escapes into the virtual
o real pain o virtual
o doom of memory o dead soldiers o stuck flesh o martyrologies
you are deaf and hear nothing but your pain
call you forth and you hear nothing and what is survive
radio makes those sounds when you are not listen
radio make those sounds and murmur when you are
they get stuck in this life and yearn to return to the other
in pain in doom of memory in soldiers in yearning
in returning in memory in stick in lives and in survive
you hear nothing and you listen and read forth and this is a thing
it is a thing like no other listen and reading it comes forth
it comes forth swaying and swings from one to a return to an other
it goes forth dying and sways into another of your own world
i steal your own world from you and your virtual too
i steal your avatar and play it sound on radio here
you listen and you are stuck here in your long to return to an other
i succeed and you are stuck here in your long to return to an other
you listen you
you are stuck in pain, you are held back, you cannot move
they get stuck in this life and yearn to return to the other
they are held back by memory and skin which falls from their seasons
they cannot move but are made from layers torn from their flesh
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