The foreigners showcased our possibilities,
As capricious bisectors
Carried the weight of serendipity;
Truth be told.
My minus told me
That there were gaps
In the undercarriage;
Fostering a broad weight
Between gaps and hallucinogens.
Fortune 500 plans a narcissistic collapse
Of reality between 2024 and 3018.
Depletion persists between bytes.
And there is no cause for revolution;
Only the migratory patterns
Of chipped identities,
Seeking the melodramatic isolations
Of a king past his prime.