Blinded
They monopolize on the cries
Of the generation whose souls
Are digitized and synthesized
Their minds terrorized by all
The spoon-fed bullshit lies
When will we realize
Much to our ignorant, emotionless surprise
We are the ones with blinded eyes
by Jacob C Dillon
Illusion
Here is to the Paint by Number People who dwell
In their own hyper colored hell
Wandering with brainless sanity
Wrapped in their silicone vanity.
Haunted by their prepackaged thoughts
Watch as their recycled soul rots
When will they start to listen to their wilted dreams
This hell is not what it seems
When will they realize
It is just a pack of lies
Their own lucid delusion
Is just one big fucking ILLUSION
By Jacob C Dillon
Cable Whore
They sell their souls
At the end of remote controls
Becoming pay-preview livestock
On the prime time auction block
Sold to the highest bidder
As they eat their TV dinners
Suffocated in the multi-channel sea
Lost in their own mindless tranquility
Every night begging for more
They become a cable whore
Jacob C Dillon
Flea Market
Money and Greed
Gift-wrapped dreams
No needs
Held in captivity
A voluntary Slavery
Trading our Souls
For gadgets and Gizmos
By Jacob C Dillon