Foster

What’s the point of imagining anything
when it’s all laid out in front of us on demand?
Even Tolkien has been replicated to infinity.

How many more space operas do we need
before we perfect the Lucas format,
and enjoy that like it finally deserves?

So many channels full of commercials
laced with every minor detail that ensures
you will feel empty when its over.

Renaissance fairs will get set up every year
and require pounds and pounds of simple
bags of ice. How long before we stop pretending
and actually have one?

All our legends have been stolen by our worst
collaborations that take everything and give back
what they’re sure we need, but all our seeds
are growing into something that’s impossible.

A giant Venus flytrap that is biting all the copters
from the sky, and when the pilots die
they break down like a fly would in the forest
where were waiting for the world to be reborn.

This page is torn from an old text book,
but I’ve added in some things I think are worth it.
We don’t deserve it but I think if we keep going
on like this there will be no time left to slow down
and reverse it.