Steams of consciousness

Living...no, say- surviving
by replacing love with obsessions:
that's what getting up in the morning
seems to be all about.
Everyone gasping in a fake need of information,
though not the wise one,
may it be said or written.
Instead slaves to vision, to watching,
to peeping reality pretending to touch it,
while we actually drift from it,
as imagination withers
and eventually dies.

..................We don't want news:
just give us porn, scandal, gore,
we need termless updating
to kill the bore. Because
there's more to sex than
merely flesh and bone,
it has to do with the terror
of waking up alone.
Yet "I love you" is a brand,
the most trivial thing to say;
it's lost all that glorious fear
it was once meant to convey,
when to love was to shudder
with the view of the sweetest prey.

Don't give me gifts
nor any free anythings:
my free choice is my will to pay,
to monetize all this decay.
This decadence without a style
which is not worth the price of a page,
that supplying
the daily chronicle of rage
which tastes like
the ongoing end of our age.

So I go to sleep and will get up
with my new need for "new",
then I'll see personality is a luxury
that can be claimed only by a few.

Reviews

[Doll]

perfect. you're speaking right from my heart.