Marco DiLeonardo Art

We may be going to prison soon.
For sure, there are bars in our future.
Bottles are made increasingly harder to open.
This constant rate of change leaves us dizzy.
Maybe it's better if we left it up to the professionals
who know it all. Shit, we don't know anything.
We're threatened by your foreign language.
Laymen lay down to be trampled if not colorformed.
That sound you hear is us throwing our hands up.
North and South, as if we could understand.
That blank look in our eyes as slow wrinkles form.
At this pace we'd have to sound everything out.
At night dropping to sleep in our sinking deathbeds.
The reality of technology, science, and progress.
It all feels like a nightmare we don't want to wake from.