Unhappy thoughts that rhyme. Build, build, build some more,
plaster the concrete; so the tress can’t grow.
… Hold out the water in a fish bowl,
and drown all the families and foes.
… Dig deep into the heart of the mother,
till your soul gets enough smother.
… This is where The Jetsons stay,
slums of tomorrow, choke beneath the grey.
… PS. Artworks coming soon.