one more thing

They pour out in rivers of red

And white

the blood and bone of this entity

this endless operation of hustle

spurred into action through want

and need

as though desire granted absolution

like the thunderheads we all wish for

as we wait for the bus

can you not feel the power?

Can you not taste the rage

And the restlessness?

And under these burning skies

And concrete

Their hearts burst with a hunger that never knows reason

Their minds bloom with necessity

And all of it is casual and vain

And all of it is real.

As though some kind of cataclysm could be worse,

the predators that haunt your dreams are powerless

if you don’t sleep.

And the hallucinations of the deprived become manifest

Like a car slipping off the road in some backwood forest 

 That strips you of you innocence, irreversibly

Rending us

In a world governed by the awoken and evil 

And all of it is real.

the consent that cannot even be perceived

In a yearning for some esoteric grandeur

What makes them strong makes them vulnerable

And complacent

the metal and glass, the wire and wood, the resources and networking

give them nothing more than they were born with

and nothing that will make them happier  

it becomes an articulated fantasy

where every aspect is refined into absurdity

And all of it is real.