He stands in lines and never complaints.
Everyone says "who doesn't?"
He gets occasional pats on the back "that's life"
Aspirations stuck as he forgets how to dream.
Only collecting dust as his destiny, he agrees. Wanders in and wanders out.
Want to swallow his own hand in grab the beast out.
As the Advertisement shines.
Silently he walks into the box where he lives.
Posters are now rotten, dreams forgotten.
Another light box draws out his chilled ale.
Makes his meal & washes it down.
Constantly interfered he learns to interfere in others.
Compulsory laws made him compulsive.
Possessions made him possessive.
Drinks neat to burn what is already dead inside.
Silently summons to what he is & what he has.
Reaches nowhere as mind deceives him.
Creates nightmares vivified.
Fights his own dreams
Slowly walk inside himself.
Slippery floors.
Uneven doors.
Path to core.
Peace!.
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