futuristic

What a girl now reads in her shiny hologram I once had in my hand.

Till the time got around and burnt my finger tips

With every each 451 Fahrenheit’s degree.

Oh the height!

The flames went straight above the shield and hit the bound like doves.

The flares jumped over a field and singed the last bee.

What a beautiful clear night...

The idea of a dinner party now is gulping down the pills of food.

We don’t have time for treats, do you?

And so we work, we rush so jammed and dull.

It’s sad how we forgot the good…

The worst of all is that we pay for hugs.

We have these pricey guests who smile for money and wear vests.

We hide from the war within ourselves but there’s no luck.

It’s on the tips of our tongues!

We run.