Hi, my name is….

What?

Who?

…Ha!! I’m not saying slim shady…shit I already said it.

Okay, start again.

Hi, my name is…________

Nothing and no one. It’s hard to remember who I am when I’m schlepping to and from work, 10 hours a day, 6 days a week. Noble savages aren’t born in the wild, they are born in civilized offices, every day…

So, allow me to take some time to think for a moment. Just ponder idly, without focus on time sensitive tasks, or deadlines, or the clouded fog of sleepless days. Dare I say, I haven’t slept much these past few weeks? Yes, and even when I can sleep, I awake in the early hours of the morning with unease and dreams of dread, a sour taste within.

I could rant about buses and their reflection of human nature.

I could rant about the spiral, as every dream finally comes within reach, and I watch them swirl away.

I could rant about the fact that I can feel emotions die. The smile and laugh an empty echo that gives way to solemn despair crushing beneath the unyielding weight of callous indifference. Be still, be still my tongue and voice, hold in the screams, the murmurings, the feedback, the truth. Silence it, break it, destroy it for it has no place here.

We prefer cattle to people. Cattle can’t protest, or speak, or voice opinion. They just go on, driven till they drop.

Falling down to zero, tastes bland and indifferent, like unseasoned pasta, or raw lamb.

So ask me again, who I am. Your guess is as good as mine. Give up. The infinite well has run dry, the sunlight is gone. Just shadows and ghosts of what could have been, who was there. Show me the light, and I’ll point to the shadows lurking within to prove the light a lie. False light is worse than no light at all.

Do NOT tell me what is standard, when the standard is burned outside the door! Sacrificed for greater ego.

How old, and how young. How do you feel?

Don’t ask me, if you only want generic insincerity.

Always read the fine print before signing your soul to the devil.

And don’t let him in through the front door. Don’t offer him a seat at your table. Don’t give him power over you, for it will be under his leash that you will serve. Don’t give him respect he hasn’t earned, and don’t worship a tyrant. Thou shalt not be an idiot.

Moral of this story is?

“You can’t trust the system. MAN.”

…thanks The Lonely Island.

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Published by

opalflame

I am artist, analyst, author, poet, composer, musician to name a few aspects of myself. A bit of a jack of trades, I dabble into many fields that encourage the blossom of imagination and allow me to channel my creativity. I dream vividly and view the world through the lens of optimism and opportunity while acknowledging the ink and shadows.

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