I'm tripping the breaker.
Soaking in the burn of the wires,
Tracing the line back to an old fuse box
With a broken switch
And a battered shell.
Grey with ambiguity and boredom
Seeping productivity like an oil spill,
Diluting the green.

Twenty one centuries.
And some pocket change
Just so we can all act
Like the pressure was worth the diamond.