This is illustration
maybe we're all just on a long vacation
flipping through magazines for better lives.
wearing our plastic crowns, waving our wands around
telling doors to open on command
(automatically they do, implanting tyranny in you.)
plugged into our iPods like they're life support.
it's a whirlpool of past lives clashing with the present.
we're all so far from reason now, we're vanishing like dust.
becoming sponges to the media,
standing about like mannequins just waiting to be moved.
perhaps this is the end.
Is this how we pupate?
are we the fish or the bait?
we're wet sand being molded into people we don't know.
running aimlessly with blindfolds on our eyes, unaware
of the dimming sun in the sky.
blending in with normality?
no,
we're butchering reality
jumping into sugar lands with rainbows in our heads.
we're all so far from reason now, we're vanishing like dust.
this is illustration.