They never cared for much,
born into a world
which changes faster than they
attachments lost in the dull facade of trends
attachments never made
hooked to quivering emptiness
they never cared for much
other than a second look
The big man flashed neon colors
from the corner of the room
sitting in a box
of demanding power
and their thoughts are contained
confined
by character limits
points of data
and ceaseless lifeless numbers
numbers which scrawl the wall
like days left of a sentence
they see their souls
on the empty bus stops
and bleak dark houses
rocking in the stale night wind
and their cups never fell empty
nor did their lungs go long
without suffering
trying to find some chemical reaction
which might dissolve the world around
like mad scientists
they didn't care for much
only a yawn
a yawn
and an illusion