Mind your head!

(You might have to use your brain.)

Plastic elastic fantastic,
tee shirt joggers in the rain on a winter’s night,
all believing the fitness cult of lies,
hoping to reach the skies,
taught to analyze
but not how to think for themselves,
I hear a million bells ringing,
and a universe of people
digging themselves deeper
into the cloning machine.

A city bus drives through a puddle and the jogger is soaked, the driver lights up another cigarette, sick to tears of the same route. Death doesn’t matter anymore, only the illusion of living.

A church clock with a dead voice chimes as I the useless observer tremble.

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