Sunday, November 9, 2008

thoughts and gestures

neon lights and plastic emotions
a paved street of confusion
fall down the forty-four floors
to find your peace of mind - or the pieces
whatever is left after your wreck of a life
perhaps death is our final act of a life not lived
our brains giving up on finding any sort of meaning
our organs failing at pumping our rich blood into the veins of society's lay-abouts
our eyes tired of searching for a new direction or adventure and only finding a one-way street
our lungs tired of breathing the same stale air of failed desires
so we rest in a dark alley way filled with the destitute and emotionally penniless
mothers and fathers, brothers and sister, whores and carpenters, and candlestick makers...all curled up in the safety of a fetal position and inhaling the smoke of human waste and pollution
light the match and burn the imaginations of a thousand
a mission
a lifetime of murdered
of forgotten children