intimacy patrol

How many people have you looked in the eyes today?

I ask myself every time I tunnel vision the day.

Too consumed to say hi to strangers,

avoiding intimacy on the dance floor,

careful of not cross contaminating myself with the taste of others.

If surveillance is the new norm,

i want to display how expensive I am.

to be gatekept and privatized…

so I won’t look at people in the eyes.

I will avoid all close contact,

intimacy costs more than what you’ll make this month.

At least privacy does.

Revolutionary love,

I must choose between cyborg or public goods without a paywall.

exclusivity is not a luxury of targetable civilians,

data gods…

My friends pretend to not see when people talk to them,

it’s almost feminism.

Daydreaming about a day where I hold conversations with everyone in the room.

Me and my imaginary demons fight online

about whose poker face’s got more aura points,

I hope my glasses hide what my eyes cannot,

masking my overthought guilt.
Do I look bitchier than most bitches?

It shields the fear of rejection,

vulnerability lessons.

The human condition,

competition; I hope I’m cooler than other people’s egos,

maybe if I destroy it it comes back stronger,

then I’ll be ready for bigger personalities to try me,

or longer money to escape society.

They all do when we get a chance— perhaps it’s time to embrace,

allow myself to buy my baby a safety net.

I didn’t invent the system,

just another player though the outcomes aren’t random,

even when choices feel poorly analyzed,

I am not here to open my soul before everyone’s eyes,

but sometimes I wish I could;

act without trying to bet for a desire outcome,

strategizing my ways with people I never met at local events.

There are nights where I feel like a shell on the dance floor,

and no matter how the sound travels

I refuse to turn my monologue off.

A lot of my thoughts get offloaded, and sometimes I fear I import more than I need to.

I begin to prepare for an exit,

the idea of my thoughts getting hijacked makes me want to not trust anyone.

I shake my head and roll my hips on the dance floor and I test my ability to ignore everyone,

pretend I’m alone and there are no cameras.

There were times I used to really know my neighbors,

I rarely want to take the risk of new conversations anymore.

Allergic to the idea of connecting beyond the surface.

Omitting my personal information so that no one has to know me better.

The stage is not what I’m craving.

Too many eyes with surveilling programming,

I kind of hate when I freeze and overload my receptors.

But when my mind quites, I can be where I am.
The crowd starts to feel mundane.

Artificial steps,

I strip to feel connected again,

from my soul and my thinking and my clothes.

Shields build up around our eyes and our hearts and our words,

I pray to break them apart. Tear them down.

My biology is from the earth.
The way my nature drives and flows, I’m not afraid to embrace.