THE HUMAN AUCTION

It’s a must to be a slave; some move their skeletons to the rhythm of the sound of the coins as they cash up. Some jump, some dive, some try to ride horses with broken legs. It is a series of inherited predispositions, boosted by what is not there to the same degree of what is. And the debacle goes on, imbeciles that are totally unable to learn the lesson, anesthetized by the vapor of their pressure cookers, hypnotized by cathode rays; these ones barely move to acquire their valuable servile status. One reaches a higher stair, the other puts the head a little bit lower, genuflecting submissiveness with a stung syringe in the throat. A kiss on the feet, one trillion, do I hear two? Sold! To the guy pleading for the common wellness and the common wealth! Oh my dears, where is nature? Not the human one, don’t get confused by such a simple question. I am talking about what is natural, what is that? There is no perspective, the assumptions flattened the pictured. As something is supposed to work, we put it in the shopping bag. What is the offer, can I have another one? Don’t look at me like that! It is just to fulfill certain emptiness that comes over me at times. Enough with the ebb and flow, the spinning top oscillating on the edge of the precipice, bringing you to wasteland and back a forth. I dream of the day that you close your eyes and open your souls, and that that currency mint in cellars in the dark, while everybody sleeps, won’t move a wheel anymore. B_Nour