Plasticland

Plasticland
Plastic is melted, formed, wrapped, and molded into perfection by this rising sun. The orange rays reach out and grab Plasticland. There is no acrylic stench here; only the purified smell that comes with sanitized safety. Happiness is delivered in bundles that are enfolded in styrofoam. Off the coast of plasticland, ships of vinyl stare in on coves of cellophane.
Life here in Plasticland is as synthetic as the biodegradable nylon that wraps the K-Pop girls’s legs in silky smooth whiteness. Polyester smiles are abundant here in this sterile island, where artificial rivers course like fibers into manmade concrete inlets. Robotic progress is stamped into the neoprene books of ‘modern in-the-making’. Life is synthesized in styrene tubes for aged brides and is etched into polymer films by manic keepers of inelastic realities. Here in Plasticland, the flames of souls burn on in an everlasting fire of burdened bakelite, and peace only comes to those that can mold themselves into disposable statues of plastic- hardened only by the passing of time.