pulverized messes

I keep thinking about the world now
maybe it has always been this way
and I am just now seeing it

how people take and take and take
holding marvelous things in their hands 
only to crush all that is too beautiful
to comprehend

we are just pulverized messes 
 pasty lumps of paper mach'e
some perfect idea printed long ago
torn and torn again to make
something new

we can mold ourselves into
something different
for we are our own creators
but we are stuck in
 outdated ideas

so we subsist as mush
bleeding water
onto
a perfectly good table

mourning as we
search for something outside
just tearing piece after piece
again and again
only to make
 more broken things