Paper moves above us almost on its own.
High scores blink rapidly on the news, in
reference to money, dead, and wounded.
Broken bits of porcelain from all over the
building are stirred together, and can’t be
seen as what they were before.
Suppressing all identity under blankets
of uniformity, hiding all the human faces
behind cheaply made disguises.
Rewarding deceptive manipulation with
the power to decide where people should
be, and how they should see the world
around them.
A never ending Halloween wrapped up
with the dream to keep walking forever.
Never looking at the others in the masks,
and never falling for the lies about the
distant past.
Teleporting Typewriter 