phone-calls

bored.
so often confused.
more and more i want to become confusion.
be that false fabricated reality,
weaved so seamlessly into the textures of real reality,
that people can no longer tell what they are looking at.
make random phone-calls to foreign countries.
order take-out in Provence,
listen to the ocean in Talcahuano.
call Marrakesh and smell my phone,
then wake up innocent men in Helsinki
with uncontrolled screams into the speaker.
some will yell back,
funny sounding words.
we could communicate like wild animals,
in different time-zones.
add some twisted undercurrent
to the flow of information.
a child-like approach to disruption of patterns.
all this i want
just to kill twenty minutes of my day.