Dissociated

  Inside my mind

My vessel wandering aimlessly

    I watch from behind

   Inside my mind

My gross unkempt features

        Not really mine

    Inside my mind

   This is where I live

The vessel binding me

Telling others how I be

Telling others what they see

Is who I am

But damn

Them all

    I am me.

Inside a doll.

I am a mind not a body. 

       I launder the vessel and return to my home

  Appease the masses and remain alone.

Outcast

Born into this world I've been told there are two groups. Everyone must be an Argent or an Aurum. 

We are better, say the Aurem children.

No you stink say the Argent children. Argents are way better than Aurems.

The Aurems chase the Argents as a game.

Adults make the Aurems and the Argents compete in contests of the metals, to prove who is better.

The antiquated views of the elderly tell us Argents aren't suited for more than manual labor, and Aurems are only suited for analytic tasks.

They tell us that Argents should like to exercise and Aurems should like to solve puzzles

They tell us that Aurems can wear sleeved shirts but Argents must bare their arms. 

Born with silver colored skin, they tell me I am an Argent.

I accept it because that's all it means, it's just my skin color.

We all understand this, I think, so this label is fine by me.

We all understand that the castes Aurems and Argents played are not innate.

We all understand that there's no difference between us right?

The anti-scientific roles we took in the past are are all but a remnant of older generations.

As years go by, people come out and say they are in the wrong skin.

An Argent with the skin of an Aurem. How can this be? How can someone believe this insane thing?

The Argents and Aurems agree, ya they can't pretend their skin is a different color, they need to remember their place.

Their place? Are we not passed this? Can not an Aurem be strong and an Argent be good at puzzles?

Can not an Argent wear tattoos and an Aurem wear piercings? Why do people seem so angry at the idea that another wants to paint their skin to the color they believe they should be?

Why are the Aurems with fainter color so aggressively living the stereotypes of an Aurem?

But then I realized, they aren't acting. They aren't pretending. 

They believe they are Aurems just as the Argents that paint their skin do. 

Most can't fathom waking up as an Aurem or waking up as an Argent.

They truly feel it is part of them;

They feel something inside, the same thing inside as the painters.

I am the one that feels different.

I feel nothing. 

I feel nothing but anger when someone applies those labels to me to suggest what kind of person I am.

I feel nothing but hate at the concept itself.

I thought everyone felt like me, but that was delusion.

I am an outcast in a world full of people who strongly feel their metal.

Meanwhile I feel nothing but the external pressure to act how people want.

The external pressure to act how I don't want to act.

The overwhelming external pressure to not wear what I want and do what I want with my image and my body.

The suffocating mental anguish that I am trapped in a prison that is this body and that I can't be open about it.

The stabbing sensation of pressure to hide my trueself to the point that I don't know who or what I am.

The thoughts that when I die this pain will go away.

I can free myself from this.

But I cannot break my chains that way for then there will be no me to free.

I am nothing but an outcast, hiding in the shadows.

I am nothing but a coward, living on the path of least resistance for the appeasement of others.

What is happiness?

What is a metal?

Why can't I just be a person with my own personality?

Why can't I be normal?

Why am I pretending!

Why can't I just be me!

Concrete Idols

 Dark city sky, no star shall shine upon you.

Colored grey by concrete skyscrapers,

Bright city lights; omnipotent, omniscient,

Drive away false gods and blanket us in your light.

Tall concrete temples, prove your immensity.

Keep false gods out of our sight and blanket us in shade.

Conquer the Sun. Conquer the Moon.

Conquer the skies, and Conquer us too.

We worship you. We worship you!

Protect us from the ills of the wild.

Protect us from the beast.

Protect us from insect.

Protect us from the affliction of man.

Cleanse our sins and destroy the ground we walk on.

Let nature look, upon you and turn you to stone.

Oh great city, oh concrete skyline. Oh great creation of man.

You are our Lord.

We worship you.

We worship you.

Deliver us from sin

And we serve you eternal.

With our lives of indulgence and elevated insignificance.

Let us drink of your nectar.

Let us all drink that holy punch and believe.

Let all abandon hope, abandon dreams.

Let all become one, cloned into many.

We serve the steel.

We serve the concrete.

We serve you Lord we serve you.

Amen.

Crashing

I  feel the wind run through my hair,
And so I run with it.
We all run without a care
To a place, of which, no one's writ.

So calm the roars
Of brethren and friends,
And so strong, the scars
Don't  aggregate, but end

Traffic Light

Red.

A sedan sits still in traffic,

Engine still running, radio playing

The AC is on, but it doesn’t work very well.

The driver inches forward, though the light hasn’t changed.

A horn beeps, a man yells and the cars start moving forward.

Yellow, an engine roars.

Red.

A sedan sits still in traffic.

Weary on a long journey.

The hot, stale air and the sputtering of an old engine.

Waiting for progress.

Green.

A truck goes, then a van,

then a motorcycle, and then a sedan.

The sedan slows, onto the next set.

Pedestrians cross, like the ocean encompassing a shell with rising tides.

Green.

The ants keep coming.

Yellow.

No turns to be had

They stop.

The sedan floors it.

Red.

T-boned by a semi

Red.

Everything red.

A sedan sits still in traffic.

Red.

Engine still running, radio playing

Red.

The AC is on, but doesn’t work.

The driver inches out, clinging to useless life.

Red.

A horn beeps, a man yells and the cars start moving forward.

Red.

Red.

Black.

The Call

Beck Beck.

I hear the call.


The violent abyss of evergreen hills

The serene catacombs of teal mountains.

The song of Ulysses rings out,

And I hear the call.


White puffs prance by like cotton candy

As grim bodies encompass the stage.

The roar of Zeus rings out.

And I hear the call.


Like that famed creed of the USPS

Through dark, through storm,

Through sleet, through snow,

The call beckons me.


You release your anchor

I discharge my ballast

I surface carefully as you drift past the edge.

As Charybdis feeds, my tether is severed.


I seek the source

I search til the sirens shred.

But death in content,

Having heard the song.


Beck Beck.

I hear the call.


Come join my odyssey.

Unemployed

I love my job.

I hate my job.

The cool air,

Rushing through my hair.

The warm sun,

Taking all my cares.

The parents complaining

The migraines and screaming.

The constant sunburns,

The benign tumors appearing.

I must go back.

I must hold my tack.

The camp is dying,

I can’t allow that.

50 Hours of my soul a week.

A meager wage of 10 to me.

I know I have a choice,

But can’t bear to leave.

I know I’d be better off.

I know that I’ve had enough.

But there’s no one to replace me.

When I’m gone the camp will stop.

There since only a young lad.

8 years of age I was pretty bad.

I was never the best sailor even as boss,

But everyone left, for the same reasons I had.

But with my childhood, I can’t bear to part.

A little piece will die in my heart.

But I have to grow up, I can’t put off my life.

I’m sorry but my adult life must start.

“Dear boss, I’m resigning.

I have a great internship” (though I’m lying)

“Thank you for all you’ve done.

Good luck with replacement finding.”

Finally I break free.

Finally I can be me.

I can find a job I am qualified for.

I can be who I want to be.

“Dear Matt, your childhood is dead.”

At first I seethe, I can’t get this out of my head.

But then I accept it and move on.

“I can’t work there forever” is what I said.

I love not working there.

I hate that no one will ever work there again.