Children on Leashes

365 Days of Creativity

day one hundred and one

Undersized girls clutching oversized drinks so they can get high and stay grounded in the flat scope they see of our round world.

Mothers who walk their children on leashes and bake them Quinoa Quiches and wish they could only be leases.

Networks that limit our output but extend our input and shrink down our words to the tiniest spurs where the options are 'like' or 'no comment'.

We keep tags on our flowers and converse for hours but there's nothing that ever gets said.

We demand immediate satisfaction and instant distraction from any small problem we face.

There's books to read and sights to see but only after a bit of tv.

Youth is wasted on the dumb- who could realize it, but that's no fun. They'd rather play with digital guns shooting virtual people while wasting real sun.

Aluminum cans and platinum bands and diamonds dug up from the blood and the sand.

There's musical nonsense; a lyrical offense to provide serial defence to a life of material things.

Prescription drugs and silicon jugs and 'conditions' we've simply made up.

Electronic books, animals on hooks and water we're too scared to drink.

We're separate and wary, for judgements we carry are programmed to keep us apart.

Lost inside of a concrete maze where you can think of nothing for days, this is the stuff nightmares are made of.