Plastic Life
Click it, swipe it, charge it
Life is money
And money, life
Gone is the sweat-soaked dollar
Clean is now the fiat
A ghost in the machine
Manipulates us like the smartest dealer
Hounds us like an army-trained spurned lover
Money has always been a slave master
With a fetish for torture
Empowered to the power and presence of a god
A virus created by the infected
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Loved as only a child could be
By those who nurtured it
Those who transformed the dream of wanting
Into the infatuation of needing
Into a need that defines survival in a sea of oil
As the draught of every drop
As if quenching his thirst can save the drowning man
When every swallow she takes
Pulls him further into the black pool
- the suicidal consumer
The trap of gravity seals their fate
Locking plastic cuffs
Binding a plastic soul
2/6/13
p.s.w.
