of what was.
Illusions canvas the mind-
misdirection from every direction-
common beings foe.
Fact and words-
trigger the triggered.
Sleepy shadows slither silently slow.
Through thundering tunnels-
an alienating atmosphere-
Hollowed hearts hide haphazardly.
Fear follows fractured faces.
Longing. Lonely. Lost liabilities.
Searching souls, startle simplicity.
Revolutions ruthlessly rile rigid raigems.
Soft glow of phone, reflection in mirror. Dimly lit apocalypse. Chained in an ever encumbering stare. Always scrolling, never lonely. Sweet illusion, false idols, empty ideas. Money talks, faces made of plastic. Self absorbed, scripted alibis. Botox here. Botox there. Self-sacrifices are the norm for such a chance to remain a modern delusion.