background narration
blue animation of the soul
i woke up to the dull reality
of washing machine dreams
a cycle set to repeat

what are these lost signals
set in sand
and why are we seated in this
absurd theater
listening for mute tones
that always seem to fall
on deaf ears
do they reveal our primal fears
or crystalize
a lonely lion’s tears

short of breath
and long on life
patiently twisting the knife
we offer desire
to television gods
of this deluxe and distracted culture

docile and dogmatic
society weeps
for all the wrong reasons
and recovery is a dream
spread by salesmen
of dismal routine

i’m seeking a permanent smile
formed from an abstract style
there is no longer a trusted source
as madmen seek to enforce
a rapid and virtual discourse

this homeless passion
profound yet pointless
composes broken solutions
but i’m trying to remember
the quite language
of a social mushroom

i want to strum
this sacred guitar heart
and browse humanity
with leisurely optimism
as history exhausts
these game-show scripts

sometimes  it seems
the light is waning
but then i realize
that sometimes
miraculous stars
shine brightest
in the dark