Housewives and Hand Grenades

An abortion
30 years too late
sleeps in its grave
under six feet of plastic
and malleable flesh
Yet it is awake
to see the sun burn out
a thousand times
through the eyes of
satellites
Is it not moved?
Is it not amazed?
Neurons flash only
for the achievements
of lustful byproducts
They blanket the planet
like small pox
(pride in greed)
mirror the scars of ancestors
Mistakes breeding mistakes
breeding decades
of nothing
They will never
know how
to use the excitement of death
to offset the
boredom
of life