the only connection to the
outside world, while I'm held
captive in this forsaken cube
of capitalism and greed, is
through panes of glass. i can
feel the sun warming my skin,
but you might as well
stick some fluorescent tubes up
there and turn on a heat lamp.
we'd never be able to tell the
difference. besides, there's just
so much to see along these
strategic shelves, lined up and
formulated for your very viewing
pleasure. like mindless drones,
all of them, they gravitate
as though there's some invisible
arm reaching out, pulling
them close like a long-lost
lover. it promises so much
happiness. it promises verdant
fields and halcyon seas. it
promises whatever you want it
to promise. it doesn't care.
"use me." "take me." "love me,
and i will love you in return."
and we listen. we suppress the
memories of our mother never hugging
us and the emptiness we feel inside
as we're scorned and rejected by
another unrequited love. we distract
ourselves with these plastic and
metal substitutions of life, hoping
- perhaps even praying - that
we will be saved. but it's
impossible. there's no salvation
from the monster within. you
can't be saved from yourself.
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