Another subtle sunrise which bleeds into the canvas of the sky, dull though against the flickering glow of streetlights. The wind and sea ache to be heard, clouded out by the far away sounds of the traffic sighs. The words deafen our ears, the control blinds our sights, and now too the degradation of our minds liberates us all of self.
What need have we of hearing when we print the words? What need have we of vision when we own the land? What need have we of thoughts when we automate the earth? We're layering high-fibre plastics across our skin, switching hearts for valves and thoughts for pumps. We corset the earth with gridlocks and border lines, trains tracks across asphalt paths.
When even the McDonalds and shopping malls can't breathe, trapped in between the Disney's and J.C. Penny's, perhaps then we'll again start to see, or perhaps just build higher until the cities meet the skies, and we have nowhere left to flee.
Burn what you own before the things which begin to own you dwindle us all to charcoal.
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