dis-armed thakur from sippyland

con me
can me
for i am
cool

cool am i,
by my fake skin,
by my stolen dreams,
by my 'inspired'thoughts

cool am i

reality

dis-armed thakur from sippyland
you wake up in the morning and start dressing up for the day. the toothbrush enters your conciousness ,followed by the pot and then the shower( in varying order, depending on levels of personal hygine). In the short gaps between u ponder over the state of the world through the eyes of the reporters? never taking a moment to wonder if its all real. The sceptic in you is silenced by the loud hum of the tv, the refrigerator, the computer u just bought (for a pretty good deal, of course) . And slowly , in the confines of all the cement that you call your own.... you melt away. slowly at first as your immunity fights back, but then with ever increasing speed , you melt into the stream then the river and before you know it you are in the ocean , a tiny spec of salt bound into the everlasting cycle with hydrogen bonds penetrating into your technocratic self. and boy those bonds hurt. they hurt everytime you look at a report which tells yopu what to do, they hurt everytime you walk into a store inspired by the ad you just saw , to buy you brand of carbonated drinks. I hurts here and there . but most of all it hurts where the wings used to be. the ones they sawed away. aaah!
Boy, are we fucked or what?
Our wings are clipped , but it doesnt even matter because we are too busy to ever fly.
Freedom? ha ha ho ho he he
Not in a million years.