It can’t be saved.
Much of it ain’t worth savin’
anyway.
Most of it
don’t even need us
and would just
be saved if we
simply went away.

We created problems
to give us purpose
when our purpose was already for us
to make food
make love
make art
– that’s all –
the very things
we don’t make time for
need a pill for
say we’re no good for.

Lies we believe
because this imaginary life we lead
ain’t nothin’
but a dream.

© S. Rinderle, November 2021