The canonical future,
of cannons and steam,
you might need a suture,
when you fall apart at the seam.

In a world of politics,
policies and police,
all has fallen to pieces,
people are treated like pigs.

Sudden explosions,
bursts of fire,
cargo helicopters,
and deflated tires.

Every pomegranate
has been replaced with a grenade.
Every bit of tint
has been darkened with shade.

Trees with burnt branches,
telephone poles,
marching through trenches,
but landing in holes.

Robots and mechanics,
war rages on,
guns and machines,
raw material to pawn.

In a world of commodities,
calamity and carnage,
all has fallen apart,
people have lost their hearts.

There is no economy,
democracy,
or communities at all,
and there are no opportunities unless you are willing to fall.