Waiting on the Call

The tenure on this dalliance
grows ever less appealing.
All hell has broken out
and the zombie masses
are too painful to witness.

Surely there is more to humanity,
than clogs to clogs
or indifference to truth
in two generations?
Mindless lemmings
soldered to mobile phones
asleep.

Far from clinging on for dear life
my life is no longer dear.
My bags are packed
and I am in the departure lounge
waiting…
My allegiance is elsewhere.

Even a clear starry sky can no longer be trusted.

Maybe NASA is right?
Perhaps we do exist
farm animals or genetic experiments
held into a matrix, an alien hologram
unable to break loose.

There’s so much more to The Spirit
than this putrefying mess
of terrorism and capitulation.
corruption and dark vision.

Maybe I never was meant to fit in?

In these last days,
that is my only reassurance.

~ © Alison Stormwolf ~

July 2016