Injustice, fed by piecemeal for the
followers, desperate and hungry.
What have we become?
A collection of hypnoid mortals
Ejected from our pattern, thrown
into preformed geometric shapes?
Laying ourselves down on sheets
of mica, our books no longer used, stacked high as a nightstand beside
our multidimensional mattress.
We sink into our psilocybin dreams,
the sleeper, who cheapens reality
by ripping dull pages, from glossy magazines, model lives leave no
excuse, to pay attention.
Deceived and dazzled, we build
furrows with broken collarbone's,
a garden for mother earth.
Rabbits and hares run screaming,
for Alice to rescue those who have
fallen deep, into the rabbit hole.
Generations, their nescient behavior
ingrained, has produced scum
covered fish eyes, that cast
a downward glance at poverty
While Farceur, incessantly pens
for the elite, scheduling rehearsals
for the next disaster, drawing out the next pawn, in their game of life
Written by Valeriyabeyond
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