technological apocalypse (Remove filter)
claret
I was meeting her at the end of the road
The sun blasted through the Rorschach leaves of the maple trees
Bursting through in spots and splatters
Throwing a Jackson Pollock on the walls of the factory
The scream and wheeze of people felt as alien as ever
Everyone looking down
At the screens of self imposed loneliness
They held in their hands
Suddenly from the monochrome hord...
Sunday 5th July 2015 10:43 am
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