Facebook Reparation

Content.  Had Become soul-less.
Habitats for cohesion, evolved, and by implementation,
How candidly gone to drive us mad.
Down.
To separate us.
Divide.

     Reparation's callous controls
as content dries of residual faceless feeds
and echo chambers,
and pictures,
and trends,
and naked women all over
  every
echo chamber known to society's men.

Callousness grows like weeds in wine gardens-
  a virus gorging out of Los Angeles,
New York,
Chicago.

The cities go blue.  We hold.  The life-blood of passion burning bright
in the torches
   of patriots still,
while we all go mad arguing truths.

God stay silent,
  while the omens go unheard.

I'm sorry, too big a burden to deliver-
the wretched caring of men.


  Bleach-bit, worn out, pixels drying up
  my running veins.
Yet blown, down, hollow
only some stack of cards, and nothing more.

Was but a faded castle of paper thin illusions,
  and yet, the real world, a scoped mirror,

to our deepest fears anyhow,
as long as we stay, running.

  Roots calcify over my beating veins,
blood rushing through torrents like lava,
invisible to core.

  I became something more long ago, the Earth, taking me up, in bits and pieces.

      Reminding me,
I am of Her; I can sustain no breath Gaia not allows.

Flesh restores, slipping, sipping only like the bees of nectar.  Holy Refrain, will dig our flesh a lonely grave.

I miss Love, like slipping my feet in the wild flowers, and upon the earth's skirt.
  The repave of social collisions and societal antidotes,
Haunted ever by the evil lurking in the subtle undergrounds

Of Masters,
vs.
their ruled.

  Implored, Chained, and having gone to battle, no shield shall protect me more than Arc's.
Only the Shield of the Most High,

  and even still.
Granted, and imposed,

I will come to God, covered in Pig stool.
  For I have been a fool and sinned as any man.  Lied.  Stolen.  Committed Adultery.  Even binding my acts to God's name.

We all are wretchedly sure, and as ignorant as infants.  I can not even apologize for this.

Mucked, I have been tossed and thrown without vengeance.

  I have been betrayed, and left to fend.
So, in Gaia's grace, I rest my head, and Pray.

      It is in God's grace in the heaven's that I connect the Holy light,
with the practician of the Earth.

I am restored because I choose to Love.
  Against all hollow undergrounds,

and clown journalism, your Face, goes blank, and lifeless,
  only digital codes,
plastered loosely,

of record-less content.