Sunday, August 14, 2011

Opium Dens For The Reality Divorced

Monitors are like opium
Stare long and deep enough
We'll be vacuumed to its void
Where puffy clouds and deep landscapes
Drown the rotting vines and barren soil
Created in the physical space

As the monitor is valved and sealed
Albeit briefly our reality's revealed
Harrowing us back into the den of space
Where we linger longer
Staggering to stay removed
From the world we choose not to view

Into a mirage
Where all can be
Although seldom is
Yet the promise of such a course
Shall keep us locked
Furthering the divorce

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