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Mar 2019
This generation is so young, so greedy.
Teenagers that with one eye open, take the sun
with both eyes closed, they take the moon.

They consume time like it was sweet, and they taste the days extravagantly.
They sprinkle every hour with decadence,
and then return to prayerful sleep
That of a modern worship, to a modern god.

Teenagers that play rich, driving fast, with their friends' new tires of poor money and sour gold.
They build castles under blankets
growing empty with emotion but find their return when they become cold.

Teenagers that dream of dreaming, and when they sleep, fear wakening
The hours without life are rich and pure with the air of living!

Only without sensation, that they can do without,
so sopping with sensation, so attentive to fixation, so noticing of interpolation,
they seek the bliss of memory and paranoid nostalgia fading to groundwater haze.
They sleep, but not peacefully.

These teenagers collapse into its embrace and never notice it picking their pockets.
It finds their essence in the back of their minds and holds it for ransom, so they are indebted, always, to dreaming,
never to dream.
My generation is dying to live. Please help us.
(Pleonexia: the insatiable to desire to have which is does not rightfully belong to you)
Xallan
Written by
Xallan  111/Other/Hellas Planitia
(111/Other/Hellas Planitia)   
230
     Jessy and b e mccomb
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