Stars are gassed out in the sky above my head
A honeycomb network of electric dots fills the void
I find comfort in solitude, eyeing the chaos that I fled.
Worker bees wake up, bodies weighed down with dread
Funneling through tunnels that spit straight to cells
Stars are gassed out in the sky above my head.
Office speak encrypted in emails that no one read
From bosses perched on cushy seats with panoramic views
I find comfort in solitude, eyeing the chaos that I fled.
Drones succumb to office lobotomies, emptying their heads
Green buds sprout dreams crushed under the man’s shiny shoe
Stars are gassed out in the sky above my head.
Creative communities emaciated, talents left for dead
Swept to outer boroughs like rubbage to the wind
I find comfort in solitude, eyeing the chaos that I fled.
Freedom to foster fresh ideas and reject what’s spoon-fed
No longer a dancing puppet but conductor of my own thread
Stars are gassed out in the sky above my head
I find comfort in solitude, eyeing the chaos that I fled.
~kfu
No comments:
Post a Comment