Thursday, November 19, 2015

Foggy Morning

Foggy morning,
visibility close
to none...
a grayish boredom
seeps in through the
cracks and edges
of the bedside window
of my 14th floor apartment
(technically the 13th,
but North America,
sweet
superstitious bunch)

In the invisible
distance
there are all those
imaginary
ice capped mountains,
imagining while
freezing my tongue,
teeth and brain
on my iced capp...
too much sugar
making me high,
too little caffeine
keeping me asleep...
too cold for
the fall

sure it is pretty
but it's yet another
morning
I'd rather not
wake up on...
too many of those,
these days.
too little warm air
coming out of the
heaters
too much from
my nostrils

clouds kissing the
Earth
much like a beautiful
love story
or one of those
conspiracy theory
documentaries
whichever the mass
would pay for
(anything the marketing
people like)

all those steamy demons
flying around
in suits
going to work
invisible in the
paleness
driving with the
massive penetrative
headlights on...
even the suicidal
exhaust is
aesthetically pleasing...
clouds and clouds of
white death

I live a five minute walk
and a three minute
train ride
away from sanity
a place celebrated
for overpopulation,
methodic, precise machinery
and the slow decay
of thought...
creativity's non-existence;
education for wholesale...

for a radius of a modern
Civilization
no large mountains
looking over us
no live beaches
no birds, no beetles
no animals outside
cages and leashes...
all of flat concrete
waste and a
cyber junkyard
of useless data and
information

20% of the atmosphere, toxic,
made of tweets
90% of facebook likes
and the rest with
every useless thing we Google
while our neighbour
chokes to death

from a chimney
in a random factory
in the middle of nowhere
our individualism
together with carbon dioxide
is squirted into the air;
invisible ash
on the gray fog
while the meaning of
our being
is being packaged
on assembly lines
and dumped on
a river on its way to
the sea;
we are merely numbers

I am (you are)
just a link of evolution...
the propagation of our species
and purposeless after...
to reproduce,
to leave a generation
with occasional beautiful
foggy days like this one
but leave no purpose, no meaning
nor a physical world
to live on...

cursed not...

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