By Mike O’Connell
we have become a mechanical
swarm an armored infestation
crawling across the earth
leaking oil plastic necessities
throwing cars away like
candy wrappers squeeze
into already crowded places
that seem to save a place for
us no matter where we go
systems moving us where
they need us to be tracking
us whenever we stop to
rest freezing us with fantasy
numbing us with false
realities lifting money from
our sold out souls as we
morph into change jars
junk drawers and cease to
exist for ourselves without
contracts paved trails and
nagging clocks mocking our
pathetic efforts to keep up
with ourselves as we careen
through life headed for exits
destinations air conditioned
artificial comfort luring us
to sleep and dream of nicer
cars open roads alone without
stresses pressing on our
temples binge watching
our little lives go by


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