The Matrix: A poem

MATRIX

 

I am made up of numbers

Serial bar Tatted in my flesh

On the back of my neck

A leash was once there

 

I grovel to my fresh digits
They're my sustenance

But It's all funny, really

 

We think we're free

My brain can't take the leap

We think we're free

For cogs in the machine

 

Question marks gnaw in my brain

Every day in this invisible cage

But I can break free

I swear

For a cog in the machine

 

Dirty water nurtures me

Plastic posies
Growing like weeds

Cover up my body and My feet
Blocking up the way

Blinding me

But....

They smell sweet

The heavy perfume

Masking scraps

And crap manure