A Poem by Hunter Zabbai

We are just a collection of memories.
Of photographs, videos, podcasts, webcams.
Confessionals allow us to open up, which is dangerous.
It allows people to run a sharp, thin blade down our side without us noticing till the morning after.
Our insides are gone.

Nothing matters anymore. Once you are and always is. What a bore. You married a w***e.

Viviparous beings breeding century after century. Suffering through pain and sadness to lather, rinse, and repeat the same damn cycle that has been passed down for generations. This one is only a repeat of our forefathers. We excommunicate. We burn witches. We conform to social slavery.

Brave New World is coming to life. You were right, Huxley. Hats off to you.
Intelligent generalities are evil. EVIL.
We stay away from nature. And books. We can't spend time alone.
To do so is to offer our social acceptance on a silver plate to the alpha male apes who control all.
Illuminati groups are no longer secret. The NWO is ruling this session.

But my words, at the present, may not yet be truths.
Huxley was proven to be right in less than one hundred years.
Will the same be for me?

© 2009 Hunter Zabbai

My Review

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I like this, it's sort'a like a harsh truth or something. Haha, yeah the world's going to hell...

Anyway... I like this poem or whatever it is overall, and thanks for entering the contest!

Posted 13 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

its like bath fizzies,
after you put them in water.
they smell nice,
but are cold up close.

Posted 14 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

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2 Reviews
Added on January 13, 2009