I see debris
Mingling with the stars
Orbiting the cosmos
Trash, wreckage
Line up for the chorus
Ships, helmets, suits
A reminder of humanity, futility
A symbol of simplicity
When I look at the stars
I see our legacy:
Too much debris
Half of which we need
Half of which we never see
If only more cared
Before the end
Became complete

When did novelties
Become mandatory?
When did the cost
Go too high?
When did equality
Earn an asterisk?
A column of apathy
Culminating, self-sustaining
To those who own empathy
Wait for the day it turns you
To psychopathy

Virtual reality
Alternate reality
Bored with the natural world
The cure for becoming jaded
Yet like all good things
It can replace what's real
The real and the ideal
Swearing allegiance to whatever makes us feel
Immersed, submerged
Two worlds merge and one mirage remains
A twisted masterpiece
With no clear author
Two to one, two scales provide balance
Only one invokes infatuation
Initial fascination
Future rectification, the ode of a modern-day addict
Elevated past the mortal plane
Until the runway is in sight
No place to run
We all come down to the territory
Reminiscing over old glory
A quarry so gory, an even shorter story
Legacy, six letters boxed into a future
Freedom in relation to life's culmination
Only in virtual reality, broken vacation
Free of altercation, alienation
Invoking happiness while becoming more alien, desecration

Poles of greenery
Strike toward the sky
Without them, I'd choke
In the ashes of an uncaring community
It grows on its own
Neither perfect nor fully grown
No need for a shave, forget about fashion
Towering above the world we made
I question:
Why does a tree make a human look enslaved?

Sociopathy
Psychopathy
A thin line
Divides the two
To find the one
Ask them both:
Who would like to be part of history?

We all wonder
What it means to grow up
Child to adult
Free to spree
To live and leave
Yet when one becomes old
The rest become kids
Flesh with more scars
To hide the young heart
Dented iron, a sign of wear, tear
Tear stained faces in twelve different places
Adults don't exist
Because their fun can't coexist
Dead to the soul
Ripe for the picking
Listing out accolades in spades
Just to go home
Stare into the mirror
What face is this? Why does it feel fear?
If I am a success, why can I not feel?
Child of mine, locked inside
I can't hear your voice
Is it yours or mine?

They say that beggars
Cannot be choosers
For they end life as losers
Choosing to snooze
As they drown in *****
For even the highest of standards
Hit the ceiling
Better to remain low
Than to stray
Unless what they desire
Can never go away