#6 Stream of Consciousness

#6 Stream of Consciousness

If we heard the world like we hear music, would we be so self absorbed? The sound of fear? ears would bleed. Screams echoing….echoing in ours speakers. Brainwashing. Repetition, constantly recycled, forever scrolling, moments blurry, missed memories forever haunting. Kindness? Barely. Self-entitled prima donnas. Hands over eyes, phones half way down our throats, choking, suffocating on these likes and hearts and everything in-between. We have been designed for this, slowly, slowly moulded to fit inside a square, always rated, always judged, right from when we were just bubs. If you don’t match? You’re outmatched. predisposition to failure. Human instinct out the window, failure will seep in.

Avail

Avail

Sleepy shadows slither silently slow.

Through thundering tunnels-

an alienating atmosphere-

aggressively alone.

Hollowed hearts hide haphazardly.

Fear follows fractured faces.

Longing. Lonely. Lost liabilities.

Problems profound.

Searching souls, startle simplicity.

Revolutions ruthlessly rile rigid raigems.

Cultivating change.

No. 3. Stream of Conciousness.

No. 3. Stream of Conciousness.

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.