The Technicolor Hallucination: Poetry

I wandered here,
Left alongside a battered
Full of rust and holes,
The sum of its parts
Feeding nothing in its
Long ago it had
given up the ghost
By its carcass I left the sign,
“Oil in perspective.”
Let us get up
And shift our positions,
Sit in the wealth of someone
Else’s life
Perhaps then it would
Be in askance
That things are the way
They must be
The world was never so
Unable to escape
Itself than when it
Realized it went on

Now it is just another
Technicolor Hallucination

I’m struggling to separate
pixels from whole images,
but it all washes together
as white noise in the end
Living in a society
Where your existence
Is defined by your
Is problematic
When there are no jobs:

Then it is as if
You are one portion of
A person;
The rest of you is just
Another discarded
Sometimes “Almost Famous”
Is a cruel joke:

One spends their existence
Focused on the single moment
When the spotlight
Beamed on them from a reflection
In someone else’s mirror
We live in an Information Age
Where disinformation is
A full time occupation
I have this indignation
for atrocities committed
in the name of ideology,
As if we need another reason
To want to harm each other
All truths fade into one:
None of them last
Save the eon itself

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