from my shadow
as empty panes pass through my prism
but pull in faces from far and wide
with these holograms of freedom
to stimulate the dream
that feeds the city’s dynamo.
from this inattentive current
flowing through the flux of avenues,
my eyes roll up and gaze upon
the mirror ball of dead diamond suns
the black hole of our reason spins.
All these illusions;
flashing between one and zero,
are nothing but a trick of the eye
refracted by time’s rays of light
into a world which will cease to turn
when all this pointless information
slips past the event horizon
and the drone of this overcrowded sphere
is replaced by the silent symphony above.