Unquestioning (June 2007)
You sip your coffee
In front of the TV,
The only light of the room.
You’re holed up there,
Safe in a modern womb.
So satisfied as a sponge,
Taking in lies that are hard to expunge.
Feels good to not question
And to call that freedom,
To think of it is as progression.
No need to read a book,
When you only want this brief look
Of truth, both beautiful and dire.
Your mind is an atrophied mess.
It won’t come alive with a little fire.
You sip your coffee
In front of the TV,
The only light of the room,
The one who will speak to you
From modern womb to tomb.
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