A macabre society,
resting on a foundation
of wet cardboard; crippled,
like a broken-legged rabbit,
using technology as a crutch.
blacked out iris in the snow,
a metropolis of fallen angels
breaking the concrete with babies
smothered in live wires, covered in
fire as we kiss good night to our minds
Meteors dotted the ocean of masses,
like a message from above in morse code.
power-lines fall, steadily, like dying leaves,
and the need for an accommodation is
balanced with need of life.
Electrical romantics are forcefully divorced,
as computers lash out at the families and
leave mother boards bleeding on the stone
cold pulse of DSL hearts; the hills are alive
...with the sound of revolution
Heart-broken, a lost love,
searching for something in the debris,
like an addict digging through hospital dumpster's,
hoping to inhale the scent of 'treasure'
when in reality... it's trash.
Dirty needles to societys veins,
cursing through it's blood 'stream'
untill it shakes hands with the sea
of chains; shimmering to it's demise
we rest forever in a prison of brain 'cells'
Martyr, poeta, martyr, poeta, martyr, poeta.
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