Poisoned Chalice

They all rush through the gates
hearts filled with glee and hopes and escape
ready to feel
feel the real magic in the air
as they push each other down
scraping a knee
blood leaving the body to live in this
magical place where the man only reaches out for the fallen, little girl's hand to sell her some unnatural sugar coated substance
when underneath the facade lays layers of filth and stench ready to harm the body and affect the mental and physical health of every thoughtless pedestrian who bought into advertisement so easily that she threw her money at the man and consumed it
so they all proceed through the streets where environmentally harmful machines feed the scene with colors made by factories that fired the painters for somebody who could properly operate
a computer
and these robotic demons of deceit contain no heart but only replaceable parts
but the colors are pretty.
Hours of lines and sweat are met by suppressing regret and telling yourself that the moment of thrill is worth standing still surrounded by several other propaganda consumed animals--some with theme park attire, but none of them wear excitement and they all look tired
and finally that moment of thrill arrives, at the top of the climb, the whole world at their feet--but nobody likes what they see underneath. they stare ahead in the distance. something peers out of the mist and--
you're jerked forward in your seat trying to reverse the mechanics but it fails

meanwhile on that mountain
the streams run
the animals run
the thrill runs
deeper
lasts longer
it is more
it is stronger
and it all looks empty
but satisfaction is the main attraction
it all looks empty
the scenic route ahead of you of snack stands and cigarettes in hands
it all is empty





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