The black mirror arcade raced past me,
Icons to neophyte religions in a blur,
Mixed messages absorbed in trite,
sweet sophistry in plain speech,
The darlings of lethargy speak to me,
My eyes itch but I can't tear myself away
White teeth, stretched across inhumane grins,
They tell you your needs, what's best for you.
We are silently complicit
And need the savage to come back home.
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