The eyes have it, those electronic voyeurs
watching us everywhere. Their vitreous humoring
mirrors the edifice of lost truth, for they need
to believe in something again, even if falsity.
For years I monitored the CCTV security cams
at a luxurious downtown Vegas high-rise.
Digitally snoop dawg deluxe, I was
addicted to watching the fashion model babes
breeze coolly through the hallways & doors…
Time must have a stop, but time was endless
that last night watching the monitors’ frizz
when my eyes glazed over into permanent noir.
Nightly I now wake seeing it all again, a demise
of pattern recognition in a perennial blink,
before the monster of fear arises for me
into the swallowing hole of illusory nothingness.
There is always the gunman in America,
the one gripping my arm now before snapping
ligaments & bone as I cry out, then rising
to scream at some blurry face fading in & out
you cut out my eyes with the ripper’s blade.
I reach for the invisible light switch to blindly
ignite an all-encompassing radiance.
Now I’m in your Oculus system’s VR headset,
your mind has switched into my own
to implant the indescribable vision of endless life,
resetting my new stereopticon-lens 360 degrees
onto the cusp of transcendental crime zones.
Blinking from your diffracting power,
I’ll fly over the spectacle of mass murder
just before the fly on the wall
sees me as million-orbed God.
– Peter Magliocco