Play Back

The buttons on the console have diagonal
cracks going through them.
Their fingers smell like metal from the coins.
Everything is light and sound around them,
making circles with the textures in the air.

Ships dismember retinas of insects in space,
while beer is poured onto the floor
and floods the system.
Giving up on temporary pursuits in exchange
for handfuls of different dirt. It shines just
like the towers in the distance.

Mutilated memories like melted celluloid
distort the image further and further
until it can no longer be played back,
and if you try to watch it anyway
it lies to you.

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