The Hive

It’s always busy in the city hives,
With many of what pass for human lives:
Where women know their husbands come up short,
And men know pornstars better than their wives

To criss and cross and busily to hum,
Without a forward glance at what’s to come:
To play at work, and turn love into sport,
To sting themselves, until their naught but numb

A unified chaotic type of guild –
Inside a hive like this, the pressures build.
Humanity is tossed away like trash
And poetry and silence all-but-killed

The city hives are full of misery.
The evolution of humanity:
The bored, the tortured, and the far-too-brash —
The death throes of a beast
In agony

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