Dancing Under Artificial Prowess

I am a man who has never seen painted eyes weep.

The bloody ends of the fading firmament
dropp glittered lashes into her bright pools
that skate on a hand mirror.

The stars never blush
The breeze never falls from the sky
The Moon never bites
The droning of machines constantly whine

To build my house out of match sticks
and set off fireworks to its gables
that cut me like scissors

Its unnatural to be awake nightly like this plugged into power grids
drinking in decadence, dancing under artificial prowesses.

And I see the Earth Flicking us off like flees.

poem by Jerome Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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