reading the wrong books, with the wrong songs.
makes you want to cry.
the subtle, innocuous doubt.
second guessing yourself
there's something missing,
something empty in your soul.

something that cried out
in the hidden depths of our being
something inherently tribal, primal almost.

can't place your finger on it
elusive, allusions.
we've forgotten, how to feel.
what it is.

hollow, nagging.
heart, screeching,
nails brandishing, grasping like a aged vulture
clinging on to the last shreds of decaying flesh
can't you see the reflections of our past,
shining in that pool of blood
a noble sacrifice, for our peace of mind

we're alright,
fine and dandy, pocket full of posies.
dandelion, poppies

laced in our pores.

can't remember anymore,
the time when i held my own senses,
and stood in my own independent thought.
the glimpses of noble solidarity
on the road of the steady rhythm of pounding feet on the asphalt
found a temporary sanctuary in our midnight runs

only when our physical bodies have been removed from this bubble of self content

we're alright.
i'm fine.
i'm okay. really.
paired with a steady smile.
never to waver.

my mind a woozy mess, of cotton wool
drenched in anaesthetics, analgesics

tried not to think about it.
push, push. dig deeper.
bury them, bury them thoughts
try to forget. forgive and forget.
and then we'll be alright.
avoid, run escape.
bury, shove,

and block them out by the sheer will of your mind.
cant you feel it the glass panel
trace it with your fingertips,
every time you pass.

wondering,
what if one day it cracked, and fell
tumbled down and everything
came crashing down
the waves of a tsunami

the horrors of time, hidden,
stashed in a corner for so long
that even i have forgotten what they are

present, past perfect tense.
future continuous tense.
future perfect tense.

never changing. they're here to haunt us
forever and a day

liar liar!
thief!
rotten. dishonest.
repulsive. scheming.
failure. pathetic.
spineless. lost in the materialism of soceity.
hypocrite.

counter-cultural bullshit.
did you even think for once you would ever be worth it.
hiding under that cover of confusion.
retreat.
retreated back to the shield of immaturity, and childhood.
to relinquish and shirk your responsibilities.
grow up. wake up.
this is the real world here.
you can't hide forever.
your legs will break, before you flee.

i have laid down my own prophecies.
dare i still believe?
in a future? or is this all a sham

tell me. hug me close.
i just want to forget.
security.
make me forget.

relieve us of our destinies.
perhaps, it's true.
wouldn't it be better, to surrender ourselves to the inane pursuit of soma.
a gramme, just a gramme.

half a ration of chocolate, smuggled on our train rides to the wilderness.
and coffee. i surrender to the the rats, O'brien.
perhaps truly we need to submit. now who holds the shell, shall be Caesar.
maybe not. rescue us, captain, back to the order of society.
social order. after all we're all still equal. just some more so than others.
perhaps. remove us from the demands of thought.
freedom comes at too great a price.

requiem, we'll sell our chocolate bars, and cocaine,
adderall and soap.

abject lomans, maybe when we age our eyes will belie our fears and trepidations
for now, speak, the trees will give.
and if a body may catch another, we'll catch 21 more.
more maybe even 451 more. if we don't yet burn.

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