Cellophane lives need cardboard homes
To seal their transparent bliss.
Wall to wall, imitation happiness
Cocoons the fragile soul.
God can never penetrate
This artificial, ordered world.
IKEA be thy game.
Manifold, Formica Imitated dreams.
Summer small talk around the charcoal alter.
Meaningless platitudes drape the hostess
With veils of empty praise.
Designed to pamper the void, vain meaningless being.