Within this uncompromising maze,
the faceless men in white suits
force you to stumble along
the path from point A to B.
Tall white walls confiscate creativity
and slowly strangle the unsuspecting
who find themselves in the lifeless corridor.
Color is suicide here.
Original thoughts must be
processed, bleached, and refined.
Valuing ingenuity is archaic now.
Nearing the end awaits a mirror,
glass bent and warped.
You’re told the reflection is you,
but you don’t exist anymore.
Now you’re someone else’s creation…
Burn flesh on escaping bare toes,
unwind every stitch and seam.
Smash the stopped clock
that ticks but doesn’t move.
We’ll quench our thirst with flames
and we prohibit the color gray.
Our fingerprints scream on metal walls,
no longer afraid to hide.
Eyelashes cease to have worth;
now worth lies in the core of your bones.
So rip out your God given bones.
It’s time they’re replaced with metal.