Elan, Teslar, and the Continuing Saga of Human Spectacle

We watch the madness, caricatures

of humans

that strive

to shed their earthen tentacles, the mud, rock,

and water

that surrounds their soils.  

We see their mutant, twisted

faces,

haberdashery pulling brows askew

amongst hidden sutures and foreign hair stocks,

puppets of their own egos, struck in loops of isolated grandiose, they cannot escape

their own ridiculousness.

We watch them and laugh,

a clamor of apes

banging shiny skillets against our screens.

They are puppets!

They tug and tear at their own strings!

They are so silly!

They are so stupid!

We know. We now know who they are.

We manufacture the schism

Heaping distance and longing upon

Those we do not know but follow

They are not different.

They are the same.

We are the same.

We are not sane.