An anticipated aftermath

Instant judgment. An implanted idea.
Dull green vibrations. Pulsing and invading.
Our feeble observations,
clouded by our own

The lines. Drawn. By an unsteady hand.
To imitate. So called boundaries.
But. You know. And I know.
Our minds thrive with poison.
Sweet poison.
By nature, we are
Mechanically engineered to become adjudicators.
Of what is seen. Heard.
Or passed along on a scrap of paper.

Realisation will kill. Destroy our screens.
That we have created. To protect.
To reflect their mistakes.
Behind the screen we smirk. We laugh.

We bleed from our self inflicted scars.
We sweat from the realisation.
That someone. Somewhere.
Is watching from behind their screen.
Their reflected screen.
Knowing. Of their cruelty.
Of my cruelty.
Snickering at my naivety.
While watching me,
Painfully laughing at myself.