glitch

they rush in colonies

like ants marching towards sweetness

a finger is put

a plastic ruler even

anything around us

blocking their little trail

unseen

a mark is made

running

running

to stop is not a possibility

in what we know as our path

how fickle minded

gullible

fragile indeed

from brown bunnies

to little white fluffs

drugged

how addictive indeed

to know that we're that fragile

cheap china in our own hands

an endless trail

a bottomless pit even

name it anything we want

anything the mind says

anything at all

a square

or circle

figments of an attempt at poetic depression

as we know it

another meaningless tragedy

like little corpses ran over

our own mechanics

its all in us.