We walk hand in hand
down long, listless corridors,
stopping to stare out of windows,
sealed shut,
air tight,
against the deadly atmosphere.
Clinical white walls
save us from burning up.
Injections bolster our immune systems
against radiation
and certain types of mutations,
now common.
Endless corridors,
clean and ordered.
Purified air
pumped in through invisible vents,
keeps the temperature regulated,
never a breeze stirs.
We are kept alive,
but only the touch of your hand
reminds me I am living.
Only the look in your eyes
reminds me of a life before.
Everything here is hollow,
sterile and dead
and soon,
we shall be only plastic facsimiles.
3D printed automatons.
Vacuous renditions of humanity’s ghost.
I don’t know when I realized
that our mouths no longer move to speak,
and our footsteps no longer echo
as we walk
hand in hand down endless white corridors,
staring out windows
that mirror what we have become.
HG – 2016
