Boxes

We are wanderers who happened at the intersection of reality and dreams seeking others to share comfort with from life's drudgery of encampments and caves Now everyone lives in a box with a door surrounded by a box held by posts contained by concrete pavement shaped like boxes giving direction to destinations where we arrive like ants given tasks to complete receiving payment for so we may own a box in which to sleep after staring into a lighted box that drains our souls so we can be sold objects that come in boxes as we huddle in our masses complaining about what our desire and anger created Rather dissolve away at the top of a mountain scribbling my name on the wall of a cave near my encampment under a round sky then to be buried by society in a cemetery filled with boxes 4/17/17