This is not a genuine nightmare
it is an unrehearsed product
of bewidth growth
and mass extintion.
This is not an orthodox way
it be a waveless line
of pickup voices
and startup noises
and claxons
as time passes by.
These are not a thousand hoorays
but mind confusing hurricanes
posing as hurticanes
as a blindfold of feeling
asking where is it now.
Delusions as baby food
and kindness cravings as pills
it gives me chills
and switly erases wills,
does it even care?
Who were you rather than who am I?
Father of time
mother of voidless seconds.
Where were you
and why?
This is not the political truth
it is a metropolitan dream
under currents of depotism
grinding souls
harder than them grinding fresh dried coffee beans
and they stick the brains out
asking how does it feel
and well
It sucks sometimes.