Sleep vs. Shark Week

We’re all dead.
We’re all dead.
We’re all dead.

The streets were paved with casualties that clogged the city’s arteries.
The beat slowed down and suddenly our eyes were open wide.
Did they know semaphore?
I could have sworn I saw them spell
”WE FAILED OURSELVES” as they fell
from digital towers into cesspools
disguised as wishing wells.

If left with the option, which arm would you cut off?
The knife is the ocean, so cut it, cut it!
Like a new-born paraplegic one trick pony,
wet-nursed by those who survived the flood
but got stuck in the mud.

Many a moth has died in its search for the light.
It’s the heat not the warmth that kills them;
heartbroken, burned out and left to die.

Left with no option.
Left with no soul.
Left with no hope.

Left with no conscience.
Left with no goal.
Left with no choice  .

Need it all. Must have more.

Just one more dollar.
Just one more need
Just one more dream unfulfilled

Got it all. Must. Have. More.

Did they know semaphore?
I could have sworn I saw them spell
”WE FAILED OURSELVES” as they fell
from digital towers into cesspools
disguised as wishing wells.

I’ve told myself in rhyme for the 27th time:
”If I don’t believe in nothing, at least I believe in something”
Look at you now.  We’re all dead.