We are breathing,
In purely symbolic motions.

We are breathing,
and we bathe in pools of static.
We suckle from the electric tit, saturated by the messages dripping there,
drool over empty objects, and pant covetously for our share.

But, we are breathing,
though the air is thick with greed.
Our mouths hang open, our eyes emptily stare,
at the advertisements that flash past with speed
orchestrated by the companies that tell us what to dream,
and shape these waking nightmares,
of lives beyond the t.v.

We are breathing,
as we reach for our wallets, we hand out more of our soul,
we want the trinkets they give, and are oblivious to what they've stole.
And though our chests rise, "life" is no longer there because:

We are breathing,
in purely symbolic motions.