Torpor

By Martin Falatic
Written 2002-06-18
Revised 2002-06-18

The mind-numbing light show goes on inside my head
Long after the phosphors fade on the screen
to buy and sell a life or nation
awakened to our petty darkness
too late to save the young
striving for nothing but pablum
buy, sell, trade your very soul
free with every order
A smattering of hope, visions parallel
not of this world, yet made of this flesh
this design
as slaves we move forward
into what?
Hardly awake, lulled into torpor
as the phosphors flash and fade
Do we know what it is to be alive?

Is this legacy or destiny?


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