"When you Wake you’ll Believe you are a Theatre Critic" by Aaron Kent

This is really weird but also really beautiful in its own way...

(I)

Concentricity is measured in vaudeville
performers weighing down on an imitation
of intimacy. It isn’t, but stick a line
like that in a poem and you’ve subverted
any expectation the reader had.

(II)

A transmission is what happens
when status is blind to
somebody else’s energy,
and here I am held hostage
to every phantasmagorical museum
I’ve constructed on a wave of insomnia.

(III)

I don’t know all the science, sure,
but would I like to be a scientist?
No, though I’d do anything for eight
or so millimetres of mercury.

(IV)

If I could eat my weight in money
I’d waste a perfectly valuable
financial investment but at least
I’d get the taste of how much
I loathe myself: humid August drug-
sticky, sweet like liquorice I imagine.