Blind

No form, no function just self-induced destruction blocked receptors unravel observing the undeserved a second serving of an unfinished novel page by page pulled into their quarters there's not one getting away the ticker streams across the screen and I can hear their screams or so it seems the bought, the sold real stories never told those dished and displayed taking silence to the grave whispers I hear whispers I reach into the frozen waters washing with it the angst away parched taste buds now tingle unfortunately tomorrow's another day