Dharma Poem: “Me-Goth”

Remember when
there were solid, separate somebodies
instead of me-goth
inked into forever’s forearm,
and “falling for the trait bait”
was sexy fun?

Now there are no people,
just tattoos asking why, 
mythologies marching 
across a skin-celled sky

Cattle-brand charisma
with deep-space cry:
“person, sweet person,
die before you die.”

Remember when cut flower psyches
had to wilt their way
into your heart,
and conversations grew louder
than the dreamscape moaning 
for a lucid dreamer?

Now there are no people,
just tattoos asking why, 
mythologies marching 
across a skin-celled sky

Cattle-brand charisma
with deep-space cry:
“person, sweet person,
die before you die.”

Remember when activists
whipped frothy rapids
into the lazy river of time
and opinions were social lubricants
instead of thought activity
commenting
on thought activity?

Now there are no people,
just tattoos asking why, 
mythologies marching 
across a skin-celled sky

cattle-brand charisma
with deep-space cry:
“person, sweet person,
die before you die.”

~Hunter Reynolds

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