Plastic Life

Click it, swipe it, charge it

Life is money

And money, life

Gone is the sweat-soaked dollar

Clean is now the fiat

A ghost in the machine

Manipulates us like the smartest dealer

Hounds us like an army-trained spurned lover

Money has always been a slave master

With a fetish for torture

Empowered to the power and presence of a god

A virus created by the infected

Loved as only a child could be

By those who nurtured it

Those who transformed the dream of wanting

Into the infatuation of needing

Into a need that defines survival in a sea of oil

As the draught of every drop

As if quenching his thirst can save the drowning man

When every swallow she takes

Pulls him further into the black pool

- the suicidal consumer

The trap of gravity seals their fate

Locking plastic cuffs

Binding a plastic soul

2/6/13

p.s.w.

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