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.

Not here.

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.