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Description
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Our trees have been withered
denounced into
               crouching shrubs - aplogetic, almost,
it seems.

Replaced
        (Quickly and cost-friendly, mind you)
by some binary plastic twigs and leaves
           Surveyed, with the accompanying
symmetrical dreams of robots, digging.

so that we may continue lounging,
reading our glossies,
popping our prozacs.

even the wind is generated
         and today the blowing rate
is adjusted to setting number four
          so it's a bit chilly

and slowly, even now,
we're choking out the sun
             and Helios with all his glory
is feeling time, and his lids droop more each day
(unlike us)

A salty, salty drop has been emitted
from my eye, to my cheek
           But I'm not sure, anymore
if it's me feeling or if it's the time
         programmed for me to cry.

I suppose I could check -
what with all the clocks
                and planners bunched around my
feet in small, time-efficient clumps.

Can't even,
Can't even tell if
any of us care anymore
but it doesn't particularly matter,
          as long as our future
will be able to dig us up

to find us,
beautiful
         +beautifulbeautifulbeautiful
white teeth, bright eyes
          +thinthinthin

smiling in our plastic coffins!

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