This circular merry go round

An open wooden floor,  with a burning stick of Oriental smoke,

Stars fly in an open space in this ballet hall,

dancing with the kings that sit in their three legged chairs,

Moving feet in New York city, Or sales in Bejing,

Enslavement of the selfish soul with the circles of self binding satisfaction,

I’ll rule the world on my personal computer,

Delve the musical sphere with a sand composed hand held,

type my feelings out with a paralyzed mouth,

I guess vocalizing truth is better with no tonal textures,

I’d rather see better than 20 20 and hurt my eyes,

Making appearances with another version of myself,

She hugs me…..with a way to frame a different shape,

Cause I’m in a thrift store of beauty with a hundred different bodies to choose,

So many High defintion Portrayls to turn another technolgically trained eye,

Such pain! I get a headache without my newest edition of cool,

Love lost its meaning when sacred scarcity broke its leg and fell down the stairs,

It’s all for entertainment, the people need their bread and beasts,

the arena’s will never die until we’re satisfied,

Roman Metropolitan subway, and your hands  getting worn and red,

Sand blows in emptied hollow empires, dying like atlantis,

Greedy Like America, Fierce Like Greece

I see everyone with their serious faces newspapers, traces, combined with computrized Jackie Drapers,

In the day where you are mine, and mine is theirs, and ours is yours, and we are owned by the spectators,

and enterained by the use, abuse, misuse, super imposed on drooling lips and reprogrammed

to stick a gaze, and privacy is nowhere,

chemical, recreation of the rainforest in  a secondary sim city, I am your blog life,

your eyes do nothing but sit,

fading muscles, addicted,