Mechanical Suicide

In to the night of starry skies and the figures of ancient kind, what have I seen? What am I seeing? 
A sky vomiting the moon, darkness eternal spreads across the land and the clocks resting on the tables, alarm clocks go deaf, nearing, closing, the toll of death.
TV screens flicker, no more PlayStation, a black hole appears sucking life in to the screen, sucking baseball fields, an unfriendly dream. The era of materialistic doom has come and is dancing upon our graves.
The fall of Internet, the rise of devices, suicides, hung by the cable that connected the world. Shatter proof glasses no longer bear the burden, they are breaking, machine made teenagers in making.
Earth, now a factory supplying mechanical brains while the sentiments fall deep in to vain. The rise of rebels, but their limbs were amputated, by the machines you call home, by the machines you call your own. 
The concrete society connected by cables and when the wifi is disabled, they all die in pain, the pain of the unknown. 
Real world, the old world, lost to itself, now rooted with machines, a mechanical story of blood and machine lubricant ensues. 

© Aniket More


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