Outlooks

Paeng Ferrer
October 25, 2012

“The world is change; life is opinion”
                                         - Democritus

Perhaps I’m the type of person
who gets nowhere.

I imagine that my destination secretly gleams
for I’ve obtained something, possibly,
sometime, over the distance
but it is more mournful.

If reality is atoms and energy
then I am space.
I cannot ascertain what I am,
like an inquiry in abeyance. 
Am I an error?

I stay in lifeless places:
my room, 6th street, and a dilapidated mall.

My 200 word abstract weeps
because I give no conclusion
nor recommendation.
I merely have questions
and crumpled data.

Maybe it’s because I’m not just delayed
but rather I’m stuck.
I am suddenly surrounded by dusk
but I am numb to it.

Should I continue writing?
Was I even writing before?
I don’t remember.
My room remains barren.

My thesis is more like an outdated phonebook.
People cut it into pieces
to turn into ugly paper maché.
They’d rather have an unusual interior design
so as not to waste paper
but they’d readily throw away data.

If the dilapidated mall would collapse,
would I dig myself underneath it
just to get somewhere?
Would I short circuit my laptop
and devour its hard drive?

I cannot survive on opinions
but they taste better than microchips.

At least I’d accomplish something.
I’d be the first person to consume a computer. #