commercials.

Watching the world

synthesized digitally

51 frames per second.

Catching glimpses

of chemically oriented enlightenments

that degrade synapses.

          

Overlooking past judgments on society

for an eternal fantasy.

It’s all untouched and permanent,

where happiness truly exists.

Clean air that’s inviting and pure,

its inhabitants surrounded in a

forever state of contentment

basking in a warm and forgiving light

where someone would want to

vacation,

buy in   

retire too,

die in,

or live forever.

A fading sunset,

a glorious sunrise,

what Christmas morning should be,

what living should feel like.

Death and suffering are only

concepts for entertainment

and reasons to purchase better.

A misplaced envy swells

for that life

existing within

that second to second universe

where reality is a utopian light show.

As if everything here,

amongst the flesh and meat of it all,

is less and inferior

when compared to that grand vision.

All cumulating in a sickness,

a depression,

a void,

cast from depravation for a life,

that for a few seconds,

I’m convinced I once had;

and through my own fault, I’ve lost.

dead letters for living people