Ordinary Person

I stopped watching the 

Fast & Furious series

after the 4th movie, 

they’re probably racing 

on Mars now, or have 

introduced a multiverse 

where they go head-to-head

with aliens in little

vinyl-wrapped, gaudy spaceships –

the pinks, greens and oranges, 

a fluorescent display 

of nauseating self-indulgence

highlighting everything that’s

wrong with the world. 

I don’t need guts, machismo 

and vulgar bravado to escape

this world, a Saturday night 

treat that changes the common 

time of my surroundings into

something harsher and atonal.

I could lace an energy 

drink with rum until I’m oblivious

to every pattern that exists –

the concrete,

beige cell holding me, 

the dull curtains and 

the old computer with an 

outdated processor that heats up

the moment I open 

Google Chrome,

until I change the rhythm of

the space I live in 

from mind-numbing, catchy, 

unhealthily-clinging-to-the-soul

Bubblegum pop  

to a 16/8 Pyramid Song 

with a moon full of stars and 

astral cars, the dimensions

of my life merging like 

amoeba aggregating, 

nothing to fear and nothing 

to doubt.