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Dec 2015
Computer screen pulsating
With a blue feeling of vulnerability.
There is a death in the hours wasted
Cast in the trashbin outside existence.
The soon to be lost addresses you
From afar like an old childhood friend.

Computer screen claiming
To know where’s your place of belonging,
An alienation parasite feeds on
The frontal lobes of your brain.
The soon to be lost is sweet and loving
Prepares for you shelters from life.

Computer screen deforming features
Claiming to know, to care deeply
Unloading promises, nurturing futures,
A basic means against routine and apathy.
The soon to be lost is aggressive,
Fighting is futile!

Computer screen derailing
The sight into a state of numbness.
Simple! Easy! Fast! It’s done!
Efficiency by the bucket-load.
The soon to be lost is scary,
Corroding from within all possibilities.

Computer screen misleading eyes
With a bleak mist of wonder
Only the oracles can keep asking questions
Or googling answers.
The soon to be lost, a warning
The internal walls – collapsing.

Computer screen, devastating
Disease for the billions to come
No survivors permitted! A crisis’ peak!
Men hung themselves to find peace.
The soon to be lost is weird and tactless.
Are you burning?

If your brain’s not on fire
You’re not burning enough.
Neptunian Poetry Maker
Written by
Neptunian Poetry Maker  London, United Kingdom
(London, United Kingdom)   
654
   SøułSurvivør and ---
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