The Irrational Always Wins

The spider web dances
In the shimmering light
But the spider is long since dead
The lonesome fly caught on a line
Weeps for his would-be devourer
The abandonment hurts the most

Not even taking the ground for granted
They bow in abject deference
To gods of the minute
That reside in the in betweens
They answer their own divine phone calls
Filling in the blanks as they go
They begin to assume they live

Devoted to a "Mighty Cause"
The mechanical children march
Their desires are punched in manually
Into the circuits in their brains
"No minds for minors"
Is the slogan of the day

Sexy Sally contemplates
The navel she had pierced
With her remote control
She changes her mood
From sarcastic to forlorn
Technology can take you anywhere
But the irrational always wins

In The Wake Of Dreamers' Toil

Mystery is desirable
But it is unsatisfying
Like the impossible dreams
Of a lonely teenage boy

A door is closed
But the possibility remains
As ever just barely within reach
And the hinges sing of years gone by

Tomorrow is unfolding
In the wake of dreamers' toil
But no one dares shake
The tree of consequence

The space between us
Is but a fragile eggshell
But it might as well
Be made of the strongest steel
I cannot break out
As strong as I feel