Some Place To Be

There aren't any loans here, or tabloids or chain-yankers..
Or chains, even.

Will they escape the death of vengeance being chased away, called madmen for not subscribing to time, caught without a zippered suit or electric chord that runs from ego to thought..
Chased, chased away around the rims of some planets and underneath symbolic billboards.
Surely the queen would choke on a rye, they sweated, seeing the sweating jealous hatred of feeble faces. But there, was it running that would really lead there!? Surely running would only deepen within the muck and the filth.
There aren't any loans here, or tabloids or chain-yankers..
But vanished, where did the mobs go, chasing with categories, trying to box away non-participants. Sucking everything up along the way fragmenting it to fabricated shards of discounts and brand-representatives.
One foot of balance on a twisted spiral leading to a cosmically tuned breath of non-worry while the other foot stutters and risks the slip of being shot down to a collection of vanity magazines and robotic customs. But I can see it, I can feel it. Don't suffer before you're convinced it's right to fall into a collective, suffering because it's in the printed layout..
I can breath it, because I didn't pay for it.
There aren't any loans here, or tabloids or chain-yankers..
Or chains, even.