generation Y

lost kids
of a lost generation
born in fire and raised in smoke.
lost souls of soulless bodies
trembling while walking
the ones who have been sold.

acolytes of TV shows.
praying and fasting as we are told
eyes twitching, bodies numb,
the unrecieved prayer
of many who will come.

witnessing the whole world.
bodies put on stakes
kids in their moms bellies being torn apart
drones? bombs? enforced peace?
who’s wrong?
heads chopped
women raped
color hating/ color blind
kill– kill– kill–
who’s right?
the strong, the proud,
the new… in the New World
the new Kind.

Three or Two or One
or… None!
in crowds– One.
alone, crying we become Two
Nothing at all — None!

just photographs of what might have been.
hypnotizing static eyes
with distorted
width, height,
vintage, sepia
brightness, contrast,
botox, laser,
skinny, fat
black, yellow, red, white…
hidden in these fluctuations,
in the center, remain the same We,
the same Us.

the same troubled souls
playing other troubled souls
played by other troubled souls
while keeping the center untouched!
after the words have been said,
after the touch has been made,
after the breach…
after the breach…
after the breach
untethered to each other
we spend years… and years…

and in years,
we experience reality
as how it should have been;
sitting in chairs
drinking coffee
throwing pills
lifting weights
nose white
arms pricked, pierced, cut,

behind a blue– blue and black screen.


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