Neon streaks.
Bright's the sky as I walk,
toeing rubble past the revelry,
wearied by the decadence--

is it sport to them,
as it's war to me?
Ignoring them as I walk.

Neon streaks.
Leaders reach out,
like latter-day prophets,
tweeting speech I want to hear--

but the saints of the day,
are the future damned,
ignoring them as I walk.

Neon speaks.
Their bits to comfort us,
as we rage in crowded forums
of manifested destinies.

Today's elite,
are tomorrow's ashes,
ignoring them as I walk.

09/16/2013