The tower – Hour 4

Gleaming cubes

stacked one atop another,

each housing one body, one soul,

empty bodies, empty souls.


Each cube a home,

a white, gleaming box,

spare of furniture,

screens on all sides.


Each cube a prison,

each person a prisoner,

chained to screens,

soul sucking screens.


There is only inside

only these white gleaming walls,

there is no color, no smells,

no personal contact, no outside.


There is no connection,

when always connected,

no perspective, no understanding,

no meaning, no point.


Gleaming cubes,

stacked one atop another,

each cube a coffin,

housing one person, one soul.





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