Fallen
from utopian pools of aquamarine
into
the outstretched arms of hazel green
A
society of drones,
cut
in symmetrical frames,
out
of identically chosen casts and molds
The
skies bleed the Heavens of ethereality,
songs
matriculate from summits to cirrus bands,
fortifying
the oxygen with inorganically formed bass and treble led compositions of
unidentifiable sounds
We
then find ourselves unable
to
deny, the automaton within
bones
no longer our own.
These
actions lay the groundwork
for
what the soundtracks here
provide.
