Digital Cities
Wires are crossed and crosses bent out of shapes way far goneWho shall enter these broken gates the City awaits footsteps of ghosts
A manufactured ecstasy explodes like snow on everyone faces fade
And just as mysteriously reappear deliriously without a serious suppose
Purpose were without a reason to propose who is what or what is there?
Who shall exit this broken City in search of desert water
Wandering without lines or paths to lose or find today
Wires are crossed and crosses bent out of shapes way far gone
Who shall enter, who awaits the exits crossing ways the meanings shade
The Truth so meaninglessly absolute so dissolutely searching for who's to say ?
Explodes like snow on everyone faces fade, a manufactured ecstasy
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
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Written on 2018-09-11 at 05:00
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