Her eyes where strawberries half eaten
by ant hills and parachuted pills
popping passenger paperhanger small talks
clocked in silver tongue look away confessions
and she bit the skins of many bottom lips
just in case it wasn't a mistake of imaginations,
loving herself in lone reflected lust
locked inside mistrusted paranoid rust
rotting under thousands of mind fucks
floating in blue lights captured by slight glances,
caught between the valleys and troughs of nothing's cost.
"Ctrl, Alt, Delete" they cry,
"Rise and rise or everyone will die!"
Fought on the campaigns of fear'd hive slaves
Stitching their fallen morals on foreheads.
She sees repeated seas sunk under tree trunks
stuck in grimy lost-thought stillness,
vanished by impaired drones
dragging their fist in everyone's brain.
Will her claims remain ignored
by Do-Not-Disturb door signs
or hushed by market masters
after truth speakers leaking troubled instincts?
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