plastic cuts
I am one American, fragmented.
My soul is half plastic and half
bits on a computer.
We question our very own
and desire our necessities,
and all the you believe
blindly what's prescribed to be
BLIND FAITH
as you desire to be a tool.
What utopian destiny can be
constructed from plastic cutouts?
God turned into money, guns, music,
cocaine, war, oil, garbage and plastic.
The temptation to make stone into bread
represents the material girl
worshiped as spiritual in the last century.
All the while we push harder on the gas
to go nowhere.
