Disconnected - not enough capital to earn
respected status, feel a thousand miles away
from those left next to me, waiting for fog to burn
off, but it don't; manufactured clouds grow each day,
thick cobwebs of not really confusion so much
as exasperating distraction. Stay bone tired
yet stay unwoke, sleeping through this perverted clutch
after "life", sensory as fuck, uninspired
and still somehow desensitized at the same time.
Not feeling it, blanketed deeply by the smoke
and mirrors reflecting self-loathing, innate grime
of pure primordial muck denied, thus we choke
on the forced shine stuffed down throat, through brain into heart,
thus gut intuition is to tear shit apart.
1 comment:
I feel that way too.
Post a Comment