And home from offices
bordered by the sky,
sated with daylight & time,
home to dinner in plastic containers,
cooked someplace faraway
and heated with radiation,
home to television screens,
lights in the darkness burn bright
before a shower and sleep,
home as the stopping post,
save those little crumbling,
pieces of life for next weekend,
home to see those ghosts
of present and past decay,
appearing in the future aged,
home as night life of your living dead,
hollow eyes and holy heads,
waking up in someone else's tomorrow
only to go back to bed.
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