Violence on the Internet

A circle.
What was needed was a circuit,
and a good operating system.

What’s within is without being seen
to be so.
Optical anomaly as unexceptional.

Four left’s a square.
One way turning system
until it becomes its other way.

A passive insistence on multiples
until that divorces itself,
becomes single.

A single pitch made up of the
sounds of multiples.

Conduction, instrumental absence.
Fundamentals establish separate
planets.
Similarity wars upon their lines,
planes.

Said well, here opens, his, sits
at its bottom.
The bodies.

Spoke well, agreed in kind, general.
But the way of its expression
requires hurt and then, treatment
of skin for leather clothes or whatever,
it’s old, sometimes, often.

Depending on the question, it can be
the answer.

One shouldn’t be proud to not
have it.

A knee, an elbow, three arms up.
Then a last one, a fourth.

Last and happiest, willing, fully
skin end.

The whey, foam, on the head
of the safest society in human
civilization.

Amnesia to people
who will actually
harm and hurt.

More Poems by S.J. Fowler