Are we so utterly destroyed?
Are we raised to be lowered
into depths
a man can not physically dig?
Why do we seek a hell
so obviously guised as heaven?
Are we beyond repair?
Can we never be fixed
to match the idea
of a standard model?
Would you want to?
Did these gears in the machine
ever have a chance
to pass inspection in the first place?
Was I doomed upon that assembly line?
Were we all?
Am I the reject
in the dollar bin
of a land
full of selfish
consuming
monsters
who have no teeth of their own
waiting for their masters to chew
and regurgitate back
into their joyous awaiting mouths?
Is the way I write this
too imperfect?
Does this gain me nothing
but a stroke of ego?
Should I expect to deserve more?
too little product?
a lackey robotic?
Not enough dollar signs
to place upon it?
Are these feelings, feelings anymore?
Or are they nothing
but programmed responses?
Am I alive
by falling from the branch
of a toxic Oak
only to pollinate
the oily soil?

Should I just
be a good slave
to the cult of "us"
and earn for myself
which no mortal
has right
putting a price tag on.
Can robots trust?

Youre still fighting
for their broken promises
and you still buy into
the ancient texts they've read
You apply the enemies that they present
for you cant see
it is yourself who is the threat

Come place your bets
to chase whos most threatened

You consume their *******
without hesitance
Dooming your heirs
pushing them into your debts
You can choose
to reject these offenses
you can look to
a better future

With no regrets

You are the threat
not mending the fence
ignoring whats best

Come place your bets
to see whos most threatened

You claim to turn a new leaf
but what about the trees that fell
in your name, and ceased
are they forgotten in the path you claim?
Look at what you uprooted
from all that you disputed
no solid ground to take foot in
you wish to forget this nuisance?
You say you're different now
but does that change the past
and how, exactly
does that change it now
directly, when whats been done
affects me already
All you do is run
and I'm sure that changes the outcome
just as you said
but still
you cant change the past
and never will.
The quill you penned within my head

They say my head is in the clouds
But I'm really not so sure
I feel I lost it long ago
And how remains a blur
My heart is in my throat
My stomach in my feet
While I may not be complete
I still have parts of Me.

Maybe I wont
But maybe I might
Exhasting this course
Forced and contrite
My mind screams flight
My heart sings fight
My silent soul torn between
This never ending plight.

Love is short
forgetting long
every night
awaits new dawn

I only seek
a dampened pain
this bad liver
is a result
of a good heart
putting my faith
in those
with self-serving intent
I know it is I
who chose these paths
but Im still not sure why
darkness falls
on even the most beautiful
of landscapes
I burn the bridges
yet linger
hoping to find
some kind of warmth
letting the black smoke
sting my lungs
these twisted synapses
that always seem
to lead to dead ends
making me turn
to travel
down those same old roads