Feeling the whirls of boredom
Seeping up into my eyes
Overflowing out of my sockets
And stinging my bare skin
Do you know what it is like?
To be able to touch far away worlds
with your fingertips
Overwhelmed.
Cluttering of metal boxes
Hollow metal boxes that suck
The oxygen from my lungs
So much
I toss them out of my window
They smash car windows
Break pots
People cheer
They are swarming now
Gathering my metal hollow boxes
They are tearing at each other
For my beautiful metal boxes of nothing
Well, here we are.
Aren't we, Mr. Warhol
The time is among us and only twelve minutes left
Nothing ever felt so great, so liberating in fact
Now I know, we could all know
But that'll happen
When everyone realizes
We must burn the storage houses.
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