Damn, this thing just
loves to find something that means something
so it can swallow it in swirling jaws and erase it all.
He was just walking down a Twitter feed late one night
looking ironically for a hamburger
and he met the mess rushing upward on the sidewalk,
swearing across the cold while some other VIP walks away
chuckling. He takes out his phone to catch Ye
in the entire internet. He spins a slick caption
underneath to snare a couple likes as they crawl upwards.
Hastur shouts Worldstar! out of sight, a gleeful
judgment-sound, lucky no one will hear
until it fades into the midnight. The whole block
puts a part in their mouths, laughs their little laughs
with their mouths full, oh he so crazy!
When I see it, I remember nearly passing out
with my own desire to disappear. I remember
the sidewalk of my own timeline rising up to meet my nose
and strangers kneeling to ask me if I was dizzy,
bringing tepid water, wiping my bloody forehead.
I wonder if Ye brought any friends with him to the club.
I wonder why no one’s taken Ye to bed. I wonder
why no one’s taken Hastur’s phone. I wonder why the street
is always so full when Worldstar and always so empty when world-weary.
The video stops trending eventually. Maybe we’ll
think about it so we can redirect our
judgment, feel better right after feeling bad.
But the video never comes down.