I bathe in ineptitude--
Adjacent to grief
Returning to folly--
I'm chasing my ghost

We're breeding dissension--
With hearts made from silence
We hire duplicity--
And, plot our demise

We yearn for relation--
But, speak to a Robot
Devoid of ambition--
We live in our Dreams

Inert in supercilious nature--
Buried in pages
We're training our synapses--
[To...not...feel...a...thing]

The way which we're living--
It's closer to dying
But, we're just pretending--
We aren't the same

I gaze in the mirror:
A ghost of Intention
I wake in the discord
With my head down, iWalk...