I am an armature in a field that no one cares about
Not even poets read poetry, no one even reads anymore
I speak in a whisper to a deaf world, too busy to listen
Eyes too blind to see, hearts too hard to feel
Words fall on skin of metal and glass, nerves of wire
Mechanical brains programed to see and hear static
Connoisseurs of plastic garbage, gourmets of gluttony
Eating the grain of media held in pens of expectations
Kobe beef massaged and full go happily to the slaughter