The Shanghai Sonnet

Congealed upon the banks of this tamed dragon sprawl stacks of crude buildings. Concrete covers all but two glassy kings, thick smoggy gusts give them a grimy kiss. Insipid pillars choke sunlight, endless roads incise the very earth, wings of apartments cram into ev’rything, ev’rywhere stacks upon stacks of units. Herein lies the future, our dystopia has arrived through the hazy looking glass. Perhaps a reminder, utopia is not coming, or maybe the hourglass has but some time left. Then the route is clear. We must turn everything around. And fast.