An Incandescent Blindness

The vague languid lushness in tomorrow’s eyes can only view the world as dying. We are all tuned into the silent frequency of junk which only leads to more junk. The frequency broadcasts from AM to VHF and all patterns in between but we tune it out like static; afraid of what the potential of silence may actually bring. Meanwhile, the first and second thirds of romantic tragedy slip unnoticed into its dying final third. We grease the chain and engine while the tires turn treadless in the pail orange heat. but everything is grey – calm, cool, collected; an overlooked and underrated color to the majority. But it is a way of life, a state of mind, a silicon gel placed firmly over the retinas of those representing a history disregarded. But I guess it doesn’t matter which road you travel when both eyes remain closed.