transports me to the other side
of the world.
An unclothed child
grips a rifle and stares
blatantly into my eyes.
I beg.
Don't Shoot.
The box in my drive way
moves me to the other side
of the city.
The exhaust floods the atmosphere
and chokes the sunlight.
Can't Breathe.
The box in my mind
restricts me from refining
my intellect of the world.
Until we begin to live
outside the box
evolution is just a theory.
« return.