#lyf

With a language so thick it rivals the silhouette of the new aged man
A world where all words are borrowed
Where even the unsaid has been said, said
So much it is re-said, written, appropriated, misappropriated
Photographed, then re-photographed as a caption painted on a
Piece of cardboard held by a homeless man. So deep
And meaningful, my sarcasm sickens me, as I
Mock the only aspects of human life that is left redeemable. Finally
You've seen something, but just because
Something is new to you, it has actually been
Explored, exported, exposed, and then expired, for lives
Of others have been dedicated to one tiny feature of what you just
Thought for the first time.

Following the knowledge of everything, the
Varsities of scientific knowledge, constantly revolutionizing
The world, the distance this century
Has gained over others before.

Why then haven't I grown? They have
Merged and circulated. And circulate and they
Keep on going, until we don't know the origins
Anymore. But like a circus tent missing the center support
Beam, will technology be our only saviour? Is
Technology our only originality of this time.

When irobot rises, I will become a
Believer, or whatever the second coming goes
Like. Not like I know. I am the
First generation raised on veggie tales as the
Only biblical teach.
Is it an idiom or just another idiot?
I can scarcely see my own
Feet, than trace my own beginnings. Sad, I was
Culturally raised to not see past my next meal, I cannot even
Plan for a future that could revolutionized even
My cat's next birthday.

There is so many things going on, but none
Of them Important. None of them worthy of any note.
We need to do more daily then help ourselves. We are
Meant to work our mindful jobs serving
Chaplin's huge machine, so someone can import
Themselves and relax by a white poolside
With children to grow up in a giant party that
Burns them out just before 30 with one nostril remaining, a
Powerful wardrobe and track record that Satan can pass
Shame on. So what is the point of that then.

Someone tell me, tell me anything tell me
Everything you have to say, even any thought that
Has flashed through that void of a space you have.
You think all this for so long anything to hit
Anything to inspire. Then smelling like corn
Wrapped in suede with a
Black scarf tightly holding a head in place
Sit down to occupy the seat next
To me. Tell me anything,
Just as long it isn't an Ironic Cliché.