Scream
Drunk on society, drunk on systems, the sordid numbing gin of ‘84 courses trough the veins of all. The masses move, breathe, wither together, a grey ocean of black holes with faces. Words of no significance fall from every mouth to the ground- nothing is absorbed, no one is listening, but they speak just the same. A million soliloquies droning on like the great whirring of a terrible machine.
We live on this vague stage set where California sunsets smell suspiciously of oil paints, and time is measured in curtain calls and falls. Here we stand like shaking Hamlets, staring through the hole in the black drapery of our shallow minds and fragile sanity, staring into the depth of the ghostly shadow thoughts we can barely comprehend.
We live behind these glass walls of store fronts, clear cells, freedom is as green as Liberty’s smile, which is as ambiguous as Mona Lisa’s eyes, which are as brown as the dried blood of slaughtered years on the thinning c
2007-07-24
04:23:53
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7 answers
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Poetry