Friday, April 7, 2017


Owning is fearful, lost.
Things are lost
From the first moment.
We cannot find ourselves,
Even in mirrors.

The future is dilated pupils
And elevated heart rates.
Porn will be virtuals
Of starving children,
While we eat fabulously.
The guilt will be thrilling.
All will have all that they need,
but most will not.
Billboards will proclaim
certainties about which we will
weep in private until
death, never out of style,
walks the runway.
Fashion will numb, as it always has,
with new talismans.
The paparazzi will
shoot to kill.
There will be no escaping,
Though many will try.
Everything will be electrifying.
Boredom will be available on the black market.
Nightmares will spread like malware.
Dreams will be bought and sold..
Drones will follow us like shadows.
The thrum of their engines
will fade into the white noise
we will have become.

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