Millennial [poem]

I, 15 years elder the century, weathered the broke-brawned shelter of millennia.
The diamond dust which glistened the middle 20th, now micro-incisions the skin and teeth, makes rags of lungs.
Colonial, they say we were better. But now post, we look at the masses, zombie-tired, broodbloods’ eternal shuffle.
Nostalgia for sickly things permeates to a time when future existed. Rotary phones and VHS grain stipple YouTube longings.
Feast! Feast! Ye hungry eye. Ye huddled mass! Yearning for 30 day free trials!
The end of history came too soon.

2 thoughts on “Millennial [poem]

  1. Powerful imagery. [Mid-century diamond dust—I saw Warhol’s Marilyn with that glittery substance. Although his embellishment-dust was surely industrial-grade grit, it worked.]

    Liked by 1 person

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