At what point
Do I know what part of my encyclopedia
Is telling the truth?

It is all that i have ever known, tucked deep within
Countless hallways of streaming
Electricity
That function
The city.

There is always so much
constant
news
information
and theories that distill within sweet waters
of temporary acceptance.

Yet late when the lights are low
save for the screen
that pours upon my face
why then is it that the thoughts slip down
down down down
around the serence springs
and muddle like a clogged creek
slurring and sloshing
into a bog
of reverse
and inverse
and opposite conflicting
ideas.

 

 

 

There is no ability to create in this city
There is potential to create in this town.

 

The metropolis will burn for its mistakes
The mistakes were a close call.

 

 

 

Please
Let the bog untangle
From the weeds they have lurched on.

And flow out
Out out out
From the system
And let I choose the one
That runs
this civilization.