Your eyes are like mirrors, big mirror plates inside he saw. Black potions of nightmare. Seems everyone has changed round here, except for me (he said). Not true. Now you can drive.
Spun on a raft, with a stick for balance. The whole world was an ocean and now we had to make way. Buildings collapsed into whirlpools and trees sprouted only branches out of flat blue. Slimey fish addiction. A recent birth.
Another truckload of crap arrives, people pour in. Theres not enough space for all. Looting could occur. Fools want to pay, they insist almost. Somehow they've made it a competition, but no one actually cares to play. A news bulletin tells us all we should be wearing flat shoes. In the background an old woman yelps over her son's student loan, whilst yet another set of pain au chocolat appears. They waltz past gracefully for a few good hours pretending not to notice.
The whole world has become a warehouse, ugly and barren except for mountains of stationery which is kind of broken and useless. Some are proud of this fact. Those that arent munch anti psycotics
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
No comments:
Post a Comment