Future Metropolis

In the queer world of future metropolis,
I found myself oddly aroused
by lascivious suggestions,
whispered by scantily dressed androids
behind shop windows at the mall.

Holographic projections mistaken
for real hookers,
Just as difficult to determine
as night was from day.

Epileptic street lights confused,
turning off and on at random cues.
Polluted streets of smoke and crack,
people lost with no way back.

The scent off sweat and petrol
drifting through the air,
Machine fog rolling in
like chemical warfare.

And biomechatronic parts
as tiny as a fly,
form cyborg drones and human hearts
that never cease to die.

And on the outskirts of the crazy city,
lay the slums of despair and pity.
Scrap metal and plastic wire,
filling footpaths, fueling fire,
Scattered litter everywhere,
Depravity a dark nightmare.

On the edge of madness,
I cried for simple men,
I longed for what it was,
what it was back then.
I longed for what it was,
what it was back then.

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