Plastic Rot

I cannot stand being at work today, I don't want to be here. I want to ride, I want to ride until I can't stand, till I can't breathe, till my bike falls apart, till my tires get old and rot off, till tomorrow becomes today - over and over again, till the plastic plants grown by the plastic people, watered by plastic watering cans, fade from the sun, till all that is left is empty plastic pails on the beach, left by the empty plastic people, watch them turn into houses for what is left of the life left on the lake, till all the polluted fish die, till pollution solves itself, till the smoke sweating plastic plants twist in on themselves in constant rust, till the echo of empty plastic peoples plastic weather conversation jazz builds into soft empty plastic crash... Give me a plastic card, give me many plastic cards, give me a smart plastic car, give me clear smart plastic wrap to hold it all in, give me a clear plastic house, take my mind, please plastic wrap it, stick it on your shelf, next to your plastic wrapped dreams, put your plastic wrapped finger to solid plastic filled lips, silence your wanting by imagined creative plastic thoughts, give yourself plastic faces, give yourself plastic parts, give yourself plastic thoughts...please make my plastic smile...
Melt

Silence my plastic cash, take it all away. What will I have left, I will have what I am, you will have what you are...no one can take that away unless you ask them to, unless you want them to... Frustrated plastic pages dipped in liquid plastic cash, spread it all on molding bread, our treasures securely buried in black plastic bags, becoming testaments to our cookie-cutter plastic twisted trash plant jumbled existence...feel your plastic heart beat down its synthetic path, wander its concrete jungles, coat yourself in by-products from smoking cities churning factories, make it white put it in a small envelope, send it on your way. Write your beating thoughts, grill them up, serve them to supposed friends, taste their empty plastic wrapped thoughts, watch them squirm for a foothold in a twisted moment, sizzling quickly fading words wrap themselves like blankets around my churning legs, smog twisting its invisible journey through my slowly dying body, slog through them those secure plastic permeated thoughts. Twist yourself around your finger, hold tightly, add butter, salt lightly, grill to taste, but they love to see you smile! Hey! Give me your plastic cash, we will teach you what makes you smile, show you what likes your time, give you small journeys to tempt your time, and then bash it into a small white plastic cup, stir the whole mess from time to time, drink gently...and smile damn it! And never, never, never ask if it is half full or half empty…

Demons dressed themselves in supposed righteousness, shouting false hope from throats clenched with unbelievable anger. Welling up inside constantly countering the last moments fleeting clarity. Fed stories from round the world in neat packages, wrapped in muddled interpretation - interpretation born of an ever more confused dance with self surrounded fellows. Path plotted long ago, destination yet unknown, the demons supposed happy journey does flirt with others that share the same mind. Preaching imagined truth, yet constantly searching for the why. Sitting lightly, toes unconsciously seeking roots in non-existent dirt, fingers a slight flutter waiting for imagined friend.

Plastic