Steel circumstance
Radio-toxic sounds.
Artificial light bomb
Shined in all faces.
Smile-less blank stares
Emit no emotion.
Skin human bodies
Covered in thin grey
Blue white fabric.
Emitting continuity
And breaking frail
Boundary lines.
Four sets of Four
All lined up.
Robotic humans pli-ay and jump
Landing on bare toes.
Music all on improve.
The whirl of machines
And cogs and wheels
Spinning round. Blinding
And exposed. Grey
Fabric but paper against
The might of the
Sterile, unflattering light.
Empty and grey. No purpose.
All gray and grey and gray
With landing strips neon
Yellow-orange across
The curves and dips of
Living creatures. But all
Humanity has been stripped from their
Clutches. All Humanity is now
A sort of callous
Sad recollection of
What was. In this future,
Depicted by strong muscular
Dancers, no heart is left
But wired strings. No brain
Is left but computer chips.
No soul is left
but it filters into the light.
Escapes into the bleachers.
The dancers still dance,
Treating every step like clockwork.
Treating every drop of sweat
Like it is unnatural. No
Softness or cushion lingers.
All that is left is the harsh reality
That dances across every fixture and
Breath that these robotic dancers take.
No purpose. No touch
Is ever pleasing. It is just a
Choreographed set-up. A
Step-by-step play devoid of
Obsolete unscrupulous
Feelings that negate the edge
Of peril by harboring a more
Streamed-lined approach
To being alive.
These attachments to people
No longer matter in this future world.
Blushing is now a sign of body function.
A hug is merely a routine of
Bodies and arms circling around one another.
There is no heart or song left within Humanity.
No despair either.
If love is confiscated and sucked clear away;
all dried up and gone forever,
then what are these flash vessels really for?
Do they have a purpose, other than
Dancing as a group in distinct
Industrial Harmony?
All at the same exact pace, time, frame, and beat.
But no divergence can, in fact, be a bad thing.
If passion is avoided or ignored or discarded
Then all that’s left is a cold,
Frozen humanoid face,
No better than a robot.
an unquestioning entity that only
repeats what is said and never dives deeper
into the internal depths below,
only skimming the surface of knowledge.
