and slowly, by turns ever so subtle, the binary digital baby turns,
by impositions of reality,
into a superposition
capable of being both good and bad
present and absent
by twenty-and-three years,
experiencing of inside and outside
Until Saturn’s Return, The Super Imposition, the baby must still learn.
Even by thirty-and-three, ambiguity is a hard pill to swallow,
actually five, four paroxetine, twenty milligrams each, and one lamotrigine, one hundred milligrams,
(plus the clonazepam, but that’s a secret. Don’t tell, will you?)
“Reality” is something that happens between zero and me, although
these days, I must say, I have a hard time telling the difference.
But, bit by bit, swallow we must: presentation is everywhere!
Instagram! Twitter! (Facebook is for old people!) Twitch! Tinder! Grindr! Don’t forget to set a reminder!
Present yourself on here,
Publish, Photoshop, Push Notifications, Phone On, Communicate (!), and here, somewhere between failure and death, I am, bit by bit, a still-born binary digital baby.