Release Poem by DM W

His vast realms of silvery Mercy
Rain down on me in the house of decay.
This time I will extricate my soul
From the cold tentacles of Moloch,
And the twisted wires of machinery,
At the heart of consumer dreaming.
I need to escape the faceless crowds
Of the rampant marketplace:
Where the fake, plastic flowers
& the billionaires bloom.
I could live with rocks and silence.
I could live in awe not comfort.