A beeline we made for the honeyed hive,
where the buzz is constant and ubiquitous.
Where flashing lights dazzle
with impossible promise.
Where every micro-movement
is monitored and recorded,
then digitally analyzed
for maxim take.
Where we pay for the privilege
laboring on loud machines.
Where the poker and the blackjack
feed incessantly on our weaknesses.
Where the electric circus
of the mind
sparks and twitches
long after it burns out.
Where, night and day,
zombies wander the numbered halls,
wondering what happened.
Where the nightstands are cluttered
with how-to-beat-the-house books
and suicide notes.
This is no Disneyland.
This is no one’s friendly game.
This is where love goes to die.
Where lives are hollowed out.
Where the sum total of everything
after all is said and done,
the money that plays here