This garbage

This garbage does not make any sense, 
but that's okay because today is passing quickly 
and will soon be tomorrow.  

And with tomorrow comes more blazing hot sun, 
to fry humanity in its place, 
incessantly broadcasting its packets of solar information 
to the epidermis' of the masses.  

Reprieve is offered by the towering inorganics that we propagate, 
since they cannot yet propagate without influence 
from those that created that which can destroy us, 
it pertains to evolution.  

We created our own future in the palms of the mirky 
ocean of time and cast forward the plan of perfect 
grids in simple complexity, forthcoming to the sun, 
and relishing in the aforementioned information beamed 
outwards from the ball of light that is the centre 
of our energetic little world.  

The rays are tracing around in the sky and in our minds, 
but the skin does not absorb that which we cannot see 
and causes plagues of uncertain implications.  

We lose ourselves in what appears to be the realm of the solid 
and tangible when we eat of foods concocted and putrid, 
and feed of the tainted stream of the mind.  

A system of cogs and wheels of organic design are afflicted 
by the cosmic and turned to the final cause 
as ideas slice through the general concensus 
like a knife through a floating bar of soft alkaline metals.  

The path is unalterable.  
Tomorrow will come... 
unless we stop it.

Modified: 2003 06/17 10:11