Epitaph

Fake plastic trinkets covered in debt coalescing within the void of culture spawned you.

Awakening to see the grey walls you drink a cup of victory coffee and greet the last day with a wince.

The telescreen turns on as tivo beckons and fox news rants upon deaf ears as the wife screams.

Colors found in nature form light stubble on the obese thigh poking out of her bathrobe.

Her hair drips technicolor newly dyed upon the stainmaster rug now stained by your master.

Synthetic children run outside to play football on their gameboys.

They wear sunglasses to cut the glare from the inconvienence of reality.

Inside of the grey boxy car you hurtle toward the mundane.

Fossils of a forgotten past are vaporized as you obey the red light of the machine.

You rush toward the green, but not noticing the trees as you are lead to the hive.

You swipe your badge and enter the faceless domain.

As you type at the screen you notice the smell of chemicals.

The workmen in blue jumpsuits are polishing the breakroom floor.

They are wearing masks but you think nothing of it as you begin to cough.

As your lungs sieze your final thoughts are the beer commercial that you always wanted.

Life was always a relative term.