The Loneliest Bench In The City

Even if you were to listen 3 times, it still wouldn’t take you 7 minutes to listen!

i sat down on one of the loneliest benches in the city amidst the piss, perfume, and upscale degradation _ it is with no hesitation to witness : that, this is a city filled with pretty & superfluous dreams.

all of which are split at the seams because the luxury of such life : bears insufferable strife.

on every corner, folks gather and scatter to enter the markets, to meander and shop!

hoping that their cards and credit won’t flop!

the currency and change makes one deranged through the arrangements of who potentially may be able to try it.

or who is willingly able to buy it?

if the advertising scheme is to beam any light, it’ll glow constantly through the morning, evening and late @ night.

glistening programs intending to influence your thoughts and the framing around them.

the measure is neither bountiful or slim.

as it concerns who gets to feel the impact of this glitter…despite the pockets of litter found in between streets or the desperate cries for consumption via uber eats.

the packaging is more real than the supposed material gain.

the profits remain, only among those that exploit the collective masses.

to this bench, i testified of a memory belonging amongst the lowest of classes.

when having no shelter, clean apparel, or access to a prescription to refill my glasses…

i struggled to see : how social systems could justify this neglect while claiming freedom simultaneously?

abruptly: the loneliest bench in the city – spoke back to me (with these words) : “as cement is drilled into a hole, and wooden wedges are placed inside to fill the vacant sole – so shall the ruling class walk on by, sitting on top of skyscrapers – built up high, like pigeons: it is there that they spy : to maintain their hegemonic & cawing lullaby.

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