Salutations -

We’re just skin and bones playing telephone with things that were Probably

never said at all

This World is stitched with schemes

Where once there was reality

It’s hard to reach across the unbelievable distances

Between what we really are and who we claim to be

And the irony engine isn’t lost on me

The shame is that we saw it coming

In the faces of the young among us on crayon and paper drawings

The clearest writing on the wall we could ever ask for

What do they believe?

Where are all their fathers?

Where are all their mothers?

Who left them there alone with a television remote like some philosopher’s stone

Figure it out on your own, child

If I still have anything to say, I’ll try to make it plain

Contrivance is a luxury I don’t have in the time that’s left before the madness

overtakes me

I’m a voice among the voices

The roar of whispers closes in

The point seems to be pointless

And I’ve forgotten who I am…