Synthetic

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I am planning, preparing, designing,  

Geometric, symmetric, athletic,

Dull mornings’ routines through radiant screens,

Playing, imaging, or faking

A twisted cold smirk. I’m feeling pathetic

In this daily match. I’m deeply gazing

At windows: my shirt is synthetic,

My dream is alike, a tough, pointless hike

Through diligent days, in faked painted ways.

The space twisted its shapes in truckloads of games

Geometric, symmetric, pathetic…

Feeling the vibes of new different tribes,  

A thick lambent haze confuses hope’s dots

In torsional angles, puzzling thoughts,

Yet dreaming of blue with bright, sparking hue.

© Simona Prilogan, London, 29/10/2022