and she's pricking herself
with stickpins
over a world that isn't real
but seen through fresnel
lenses
and there are life-size cutouts
in Everystore window
whispering
'buy me'
'try me'
'eat me'

why me?

and there's a puddle
of red
on the floor
caused by a world where
perception
is replaced by empty stares

and the people'll see it on
the evening news
which will be answered
by a dull nod
and a bland 'what has this world come to?'
over their worn-out senses

and the band marches on.

with the steady rhythm
of their drums
things are all the same.