Means of production for repetition of an old proposition. More for more's sake, each against each other. All on the take. A fight to be "self-made." So, come,join the staid. Share or care, compassion. All are in America; unmade.
The tricks of the self: to confuse and divide, ensnare and impair, to turn the head on the tail. Leaving us all chasing circles, lashing out at phantoms and grasping for dreams. Living our life's through fiction. Against the real, it seems we rail.
My mistake was to believe: To believe in human kindness or reason, or that truth is in some way potent. The idea that humanity could make sense, of what the past will portent. To dream that borders would not be barriers to better ways.
On the wall where shadows grew; Light lightly refracted though windows. With cups of long cold tea; where appropriate storms swim. By a wall where shadows put on a show.
Let slip words aglow, in skins subsurface shimmer. Skip, flip, fall and tumble. To Cracked laminate floors. Spilling those storms out into the world. The Sun boils, flowers and then bows out to a Gray sickle of the night.
In this world where shadows know; A little light is all that's needed to nurture the shadow's show.