Insomnia

They sit

In their cubes plugged in with cables

Blue Fluid in, orange out

Their eyes are eternally viewing the screens

The Sleepless design works sent to the Machines

They create

The Machines

Have taken the jobs and labors

All that remains are consumers and creators

The sheep devour the works unaware

The trapped create endlessly

They know

The Fluid

Stimulates the brain to the umpteenth degree

This muse liberates and destroys them

Sleepless die early and frequently

Reborn from the cold steel tanks

From Mother

They wonder

About dreams and ideas never conceived before

They are the brightest of all the Earths

But they are wired to the cubes

Endless knowledge channeled into their Art

They brood

The Dome

Floats above in the center of cubes

A black mirrored void

The Suits inside lounge and observe

Pleased with their Sleepless and Machines and Art

They watch