brain blast

the whole world a symphony of beeps & clicks
we’ve got radio waves to spare, we have cartoon guns
we drew them—they make cartoon blood
they make everything into cardboard cutouts
we’ve got bullseyes—that’s what we manufacture
our factories suck in air & vomit out boxes
& broken people who end up in boxes.
we bury them under the dust
then talk about ashes & tell old stories
we read out loud from books left in temporary bedrooms—
they’re called The Word. we make words, we make them up.
we hurt you with them & give you a name.
your name means anything. you climb a tower
to look out across a freezing horizon
& say you watched for the edge of the world
we proved never existed
before we had anything to say about holograms
but already had bullets.
our skin was real skin you could really touch
what is your name for this universe, you dead,
you rotten, see we’ve done a lot with the place.
we’ve renovated, we call it ours.

About Sophia Holtz

Sophia Holtz is a writer, performer, and sometimes-illustrator. She has performed her poetry in bars, colleges, and the occasional basement throughout the United States. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in RHINO, decomP, Consequence, and Muzzle, among others. She tweets @sophillazilla and her website is sophiaholtz.com

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