sa(L)vage

Fantastically, curiously, satirically, infatuated

with the Exodusial promise of a disease deemed

comfort.

Pills, pools, Pillsbury and drool

uniforms, nurses, plaqued lists of rules.

Feed the masses, regulate classes,

classrooms of priests, laws that He passes.

Take these drugs, but like Hell you'll touch those,

sigh with relief as you line up in rows.

Do whatever it takes,

to take whatever they do…

Set free the creatures as you

burn

       down

               the

                     Zoo.

Prosthetic, Pass with it, Pathetic, Prophetic

They claimed prophecy, but it’s just profit, see?

Until they barcode our wrists and shave all our hair,

there might be some time to become self-aware.

So warm yourselves around paintings on fire,

and convince your children that it’s nothing but talk,

sew your eyes shut to quell any desire,

ignore the earthquakes and go for a walk.

But imagine,

a brief lapse of forced lucidity…

Are we thinking?

Could it be?

And maybe then we'll notice how much the ground's shaking,

Look up at the tower, inquire

on the changes they're not making.

They'll look down at as they laugh

and pour wine on our heads.

And only then will we notice

that our feet are blocks of lead.

Still,

we'll scale the high tower,

and beat their heads in with rocks.

But at the end of the game,

we all go back in the box.