Zzzzzz

The itch we yearn to scratch

Keeps moving down our backs,

Attempting to escape into reality,

We hack, our way out of it.

Held hostage by a throbbing mind,

We pretend we don’t

Mind.

We just body.

As the heart bleeds.

The ancient creeds get buried by

Modern needs.

Human jobbings or

Human beings?

Each season gives us the perfect reason

to think the ship’s moving in circles,

Meanwhile the spectrum’s nearing purple.

Modern discomfort’s giving me the blues,

When it’s time to wake up,

Will you hit snooze?