Passive Insurrection?

How many generations since the dinosaurs? Just count the shining logos on dirty trucks riding the vascular system of these states United by the pulsing need for consumerism.
The smoke will curl around your fingers like greedy hands around a throat, embers floating near your shoulder, smoldering in your eyes, waiting for the chance to ambush. You log the hours your heart is beating, seal your impulses in searing candle wax, and that’s how you want to make your fortune: fluid and fast, soon growing cold to be observed for however long forever is today.
You don’t need to see to hear his vertebrae knocking together as he dances, desperately trying to please you. The battle was over before it started, but on some level he needed to feel that bite and twist of cold metal before he gave in.
You’ll stare at the ground, and keep your questions quiet for fear of somehow cheapening the mystery for all the true believers. Don’t look up until the constant flow ebbs, and you can lie on the freeway and reacquaint yourself with the stars.