why I want to scream

we take the tram to catch a movie about today and self indulgence. front row leaves within a minute of not seeing who they want onscreen. cackles of laughter on their return from those of us more patient. the beautiful Americans have perfect teeth and problems we couldn't imagine. how are they to live if they can't tell who they're meant to love? one hour fifty seven and another twenty million for a dance around the edges of our egos. ticking every box to house a morgue of lonely husks. was it a train wreck or a mirror? do I really want to know?

I leave the credits angry at how we are or the glassy veiled reflection of the modern leper that can't stop crying out for more. we laugh about the surface and having wanted something else to happen. I open my phone to watch a bomb drop on a hospital fire escape. journalists and nurses disintegrate to clouds of dust. I think about their kids and what they might have thought about the movie. too bad she had to settle for the waiter with the housemates. at what point do we escape ourselves? am I drowning in the mirror all the way down to the grave?

the kettle boils and waits for pouring til the water's cold. tomorrow I forget the clouds and why I want to scream.