omtopable

scattered papers line my desk
random scraps of passing time
progress made and things get lost
nothing seems to stay the same
i know it seems so odd and weird
like great red-rust iron in the heat
it’s hot and grungy and impossible to see
don’t touch it you’ll drop it
lose the animalistic beauty of it all
stuck on repeat we wander through this life
electronic mazes made for us to follow
the end is nothing but a hollow existence
propped up by technology with no prpose
the scattered pages of life so neatly organized
set for all to see. set for everybody to read
our lives on tap, the web their faucet
no one is real outside their online persona

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