so many circles within circles within circles. the ties that bind, slowly tighten. vacant and glassy eyed, we dont even notice. distracted by the clutter. an advertising term for all the ads the surround us. absorb the code. the spend billions to find new ways to trick us into absorbing the code. im the lucky one. ive been so self absorbed with the pain and isolation of the last two years that i havent looked up from the everchanging landscape of my abdomen. from sutures to gauze to drain to bags and back again, over and over. i am now a product of junk science. to busy trying to figure out what i did, to even notice the clutter. sometimes. once in a while while going the commuter train is leaving downtown, southbound through the factory and scrap yards, i gaze out the window at chainlinked square after square of yesterdays junk science, rusting in the rain and the song cuts through the clutter. the soft static hiss of the satelittes still call me. the factory, the garden. the weekends spent self medicating with stoli martini's and shopping. and i smile. but a sharp pain or a warm wetness where the seal on this weeks bag is melting brings me back. and i withdraw. back into my shell. shiny and clean on the outside. screaming and rotting on the inside. the mask that is my life is the mask of junk science, watch. i hit the playback button and a smile stumble flutters across my displaced and unaligned face.