Piles of cables that no longer
fit into the slots of the tools
as intended. Clogged veins
beyond repair between the heart.
Heavy lifting through crowds
that are proud of their failure.
They wave their flags
and cannot tell the difference.
The sound of fists against the hollow
metal ceiling makes you think
you’re in a thunderstorm,
but the truth is just
a floor with endless noise.
People with nowhere else to be
just want to see something amazing,
and now they are dependent
on the pain.
Distractions
Teleporting Typewriter 