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Alone and spiralling down
the path of apathy . . . through the dire straits of sanity
and other self-created tragedies,
into the open arms of sadness . . . and smiling madness,
again, I am welcomed and embraced,
my tranquility unknowingly replaced
by my desire for more than compliance,
complacency and a little morsel of the taste
And won't it all be so funny?
When we cease to breathe and the pieces
get returned to their maker,
when the world is forsaken
and souls partake of the exodus finale.
Then what shall we collect or possess?
What will be traded and how many jaded
in the game of excess . . . what will we call treasure then?
By what standard will we measure ourselves
when there is no health or vanity
to consume or minds,
our money, and our time?
Then what will shoppers seeking the bargain desire to
When all the items forged of matter
have at last been scattered to the ground again.
When our transparent ideologies
all have fallen, and our traditions
are no longer calling our beliefs
to kneel and bow to the financial power
of nations warring with themselves
about national health care vs. a shiny new space station.
WE HAVE WON EVERY SINGLE RACE . . .
except the one to be human.
Glucose cellulite upright and walking,
plastic intoxication is now mass marketed
as the days grow darker and our eyes get smaller;
our thoughts continue to be caught
in traps that have been set
by programmed plans and preoccupied mindsets . . .
the virus begets a virus
inside us and our only growth is malignant
and nauseating . . . with commercials advertising
an all out free for all;
like cattle rounded and feeding
on their own species.
And if this is humanity's peak . . . wake me when its over.
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