Untitled Musings

Damn, we're living in the future with the illusion of the present,

Howling at the moon when it's a blood-lit crescent

The sky moves around us while the people at a standstill,

with the monotony of concrete, barbed wire and rust steel

Oil-drenched air seeps in our lungs,

along with chemicals deposited to where we're from

Chain-gang debt and unrealistic goals,

mixed with resignation...and empty cereal bowls.