rubbish!

Werner says the dirt under Michael's fingernails
contains more life than all his
rubbish philosophies,
I've never known him to have dirt anywhere
least of all a dirty mind,
of course that opens a whole other can of worms
when we forget there is a living breathing human
being on the other end of the screen and we walk
in and out without so much as a thought
of the impression our muddy shoes make
on that barren avenue of existential aloneness
(loneliness by any other name is still
an inherited subordinancy)
and how it cakes with indifference,
reeks of arrogance,
it would be a much kinder, gentler thing
to turn off the bleeping light
take a deep breath and remember
to disaffect yourself
from your own logical, pernicious conclusions, you are
merely a pawn in your self-abdication,
and the Player who holds
your strings can cut them any time and then
where would you be, cast adrift on your own
devil's island,
nevermore to quote or unquote your particular
brand of effulgent brilliance.

Indeed, I can and ever only speak for myself.