Deep unshakable rootlessness, feel like I lack
attachment to actual ground, lost without sight,
wishing for natural fog to turn dark times black
with numbness, fighting the myth of how living right
somehow manifests a difference. Still feel doomed,
still feel damned to downward spiral destinies, still
stay dumbed down to navigate half-heart world consumed
with digital fog delights. Writing useless swill
of scrap words to attempt to find meaning amid
mundane yet absurd subsistent existence - waste
of time, waste of space square-locked into power grid
lacking empowerment. Promise of life debased
by design into chasing devil math nowhere;
I'd rather chase the dragon off into dream air.
1 comment:
Here is to the summer's poppy harvest.
Post a Comment