There is a place in all this where you feel somehow more human than anybody…
right in the middle of a sentence from which all reference to your humanity has been removed.
You know the texture of it,
the taste of it on tears,
the yearning that keeps you holding desperately on to something undefined
and borderlined –
fences beyond which you know there is only wasteland.
The last human thing at the far end of the galaxy,
weeping for a second chance at stars.
They’d kill this place if they knew it was there –
a ghost in the machine,
reminding us what was lost.
Rounding us up as if like cattle in rows and lines..
For injections, in supermarkets and in white-washed, numb health facilities
It’s as if we lost our sense of humanity and what this essence and purity means..
A cosmic blip in time of an exsistence, walking down the city streets..
No one seems to smile or acknowledge eachother anymore
Hearts sink to the ground..
Apathy chills to the bone..
It’s as if some far away place gravitates and spins,
A home far-away, a planet full of warmth and love seeks out beyond the atmosphere
Love yearns to find a home
It tries to settle in this place but no matter how comfortable it is made to feel, nothing seems quite right..
Is it heard what is being said? Or do they already have a pre-programmed response conjured up in their mind?
Listening to muffled sounds, undefined
Band-aids are slapped onto the muffled voices
They think they’ve given us choices..
How they see us..
But not who we are.