untitled.

untamed emotion shrouded in steve mqueen cool.
how can anyone penetrate that...
more importantly why should anyone even try?
its too late to help me help you.
you say i should publish what i think. what i feel.
why put a price on the moment?
numbers and data just turn truth into shadows
cast on cracked pavement and tired eyes.

two nights ago i was a passenger through another friends purgatory.
what my friend didnt know was that their in between was my hell.

the monotones of prosperity.
the wide roads that come with it.

empty cacoons of consumerism,
sentient beings standing watch
with all seeing centers that so
arrogantly claim to connect us all.
tall walls thin halls protect
us from them.

rome is burning. and all i can do is
ask if you want cream and sugar with
your coffee.