One after another, its like building Lego
blocks into a tower of coloured plastic
well...not until they fall into this unsightly
squarish mess on the floor
Tiles on the floor and on the walls
They make me lose my sight of line
so unconsciously I can't see straight
their glossy faces blinded my eyes
Library books are another example of
where page after page of literary notes and
stories fill the shelves waiting to be noticed
and when they do get noticed by us
cover after cover they get pulled apart
into wide open pieces of paper
Their information gets absorbed and forgotten
all at the same time by the human machines
Curves, shapes, sizes (can be? possibly)
Are these what we assumed miserably
to feed our soulless bodies of education
beneath the facades of medication
It's a repeated cycle of nonsensical things
we can avoid yet chose to be pleasured by
the fucked ups to suffer in endless patterns
YOU ARE READING
/MEMORY/
Non-Fictionnever will I ever find a world that's better...oh wait, sarcasm is written in this letter. Written anywhere: in panic or anxiety, the reason's there.
