Manicured Garden
I sit here in this manicured garden
Sniffing the scents of ev'ry plastic plant.
The fragrance of their synthetic pollen
Consumes me. Hypnotic'lly, they enchant
The palette of my natural senses,
Intoxicating the way that I feel.
Numb and resigned, I dropp my defenses,
And I am conquered by the hyperreal.
I am bent like the aluminum wires
In the rubber tubing of each fake stem.
I am metamorphosed by my desires.
Slowly, I will become the same as them:
In authenticity's simulation—
A commodity of decoration.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
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