Nobody knows where it came from
or how it circulated through our society
finding its way into every home.
The epidemic is spreading faster than fire.
In our hearts, we are all susceptible hosts,
left behind with this ash black waste.
We cannot measure the rate of transmission;
the length of infective period is infinite.
It seems like it has always been this way.
On the big flashy screens, in crowded streets,
the outbreak moves in intermediate leaps.
The weapon is bacteria disguised as media.
We cough up some cash for the vaccination
(for laziness) and sneeze out plastic utensils.
We drink too much and vomit what we cannot stomach,
using, reusing, wearing out our disposable liberty.
Recycled placebos convince us: we're getting better..
[..at circulating convenience; the seductive economy]
Every week, we lay out our casualties
in black plastic bags packed tight with
the byproduct of our disposable income.
The truck carts off the refuse out of sight. (mind?)
It's a temporary cure, a remedy to assuage
the symptoms before they can be recognized.
We rarely see the vast waste lands
where seagulls pick away at our phlegm
and the ecosystem adapts to our indolence.
We condone the degeneration of moral cells and
the spawn of a new one that is immune to guilt;
evolved to serve one infectious purpose: to sell.
