There once was a senseless thing that hung about.
It carried no weight of reason or spontaneity.
Grappling with a day to day fright or futuristic nightmare of what
the other side of the door held.
It had no existence.

There once was a senseless movement that held no love or hate, hot nor cold.
The mythical heart beat for nothing more than the first wave of wreckage.
The movies of petrified hopelessness, its rage of entertainment.
Feeding itself from the gasps in surround sound.
No matter the medium, black, white or living color,
the senseless prevailed upon it self made throne of fire.

Fear. . . the one senseless, we feed willing.

 By: K. Mulroney

        (V)