s./j. goldner - Nebula

so yes, Foucault and Tupac would agree
that once you delet your soul you employ
the grabbing hands to grab all they can—
compiling nonsense: hot-air-balloon heads
quantity over quality—the regnant ideal.

but what if
your personality was one
so contagious,
so infectious,
so absorptive,

that you consumed blindly—
all that you came in contact with;

a monster—would one become?
or an explosive star that keeps burning—
engorging the total mass of its
continual accumulating passions

—not knowing what it is to fade
black
or even dim.

s./j. goldner

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/nebula/