which, is another way of saying

1/5/2023 you can't buy your way out of death

YOU CAN'T BUY YOUR WAY OUT OF DEATH
Con/Jur/d, 1/5/2024

I’m suffering the long complaint, jon says
the ongoing struggle of believing what we
want comes from inside, not some pusher’s
measured, folded and, packeted
resellable ‘good life’

Since you died, you say, things have
only gotten more and more, civilization
has been stolen and resold, as a 
brand, as new-and-improved, as version
2.0 reaching incrementally toward a fiction -
realized goal of 3.0, community is
a knockoff product supported by marketing, and
focus groups while lobbying has replaced 
authenticity

Is it our fault, he says

It is, you say, i know you don’t have to deal
with it anymore, but i feel infected, everything is
a viral dissembling, and I’m buying elixirs,
panaceas, whole ecosystems of healing

And I’m afraid 
here, jon, you and i

TAKE A BREAK

Don’t see the same anymore
everyone is involved in a project we’ll
never finish in a single lifetime, he says

You say

I miss watching old movies, from the 60s and 70s
made when we were just kids, but they had already figured
some things out, and you could, relate because it was
a rediscovering of part of yourself, instead of the imposition
of a hole needing filling, dropping behind the screen
hanging out in the scene, two heretics without lineage, boomers
born on the transit, unearthing ancient wisdom, in day
glow living rooms, long transitions,                        experimental cuts
easier to undo those lies and fabulations
like you can’t enjoy the sunset if someone
else owns the skyline, or you could catch
cancer from seeing an astronaut smoke, or
somebody hates the american people more
than the us of a

Or that we were meant to be plastic people
with petrochemicals for blood, jon says

Would you have stopped smoking
knowing how it would end? 

What choice did we have
he says

None, you say.

Punctuation Matters!

Much love,

Con/Jur/d, 1/5/2024