Enter The False Skies

By melting silk sand from the Sahara,
They build Heaven out of glass.
Standing seventy nine stories high,
It is filled with those who can

Swimming with white plastic ferns,
Cream coloured funiture, and a
Never ending scent of vanilla,
Their eyes adjust fast for there is
No need to go outside again.

Shiny scalpel plastic surgery turns
Any, all genetic defects
To Grecian works of perfection.
A mirror ban stands for fear of nihilism.

With pure Prozac injections
Any mental conflicts of descent
Turn to flights attuned upwards, aided by
Synthetic electro muzak, and rubber
Bottles of vitamin fused honey fluid.

Soon, a golden day dawns.
Sweating, the temperature control hits high.
With DNA spliced wings, the angels
Flap and lock lips under fluro.
The future is conceived, quick and dripping.


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