Flag

These city lights are hanging like a leaf off a withering tree,
Like a flag at half-mass,
Flickering in and out and darkening our paths,
While the flags above us still glimmer with the freshest of Stars and Stripes,
Made from factory workers in China and shipped overnight,
A clear reminder of the artists who are writing the script of our ironic lives,
Glimmering with hope for a road ahead,
One that we will never see,
The only thing we see our flags,
What they’ve wanted us to see.

Controlling reality so reality fits their needs,
A plan that is hidden inside the polluted air that is contaminating our seas,
Is it tough to stay optimistic?
Is it tough tough to stay true?
Is it tough to stay anything….
When all you do is look in the mirror and shout…

Well, just, who the hell you?

I don’t know,
I don’t know,
How the hell am I supposed to know?

The billboards sit below the sun, photosynthesizing,
Growing into bridges that ascend into the sky,
Maybe that will explain why…
Our connections with being connected seem to be the only things that are divine,

So clinch me like a commodity,
Something you really adore,
Something on the backpage of the backpage of the creased page of the ad of your favorite store,
Tell me you care,
Tell me what I am supposed to be,

The glass is eating itself,
Folding in itself like an origami,
It wraps itself around my feet,
And it won’t stop until I answer….

What the hell am I supposed to be?

I don’t know,
I don’t know,
I don’t know,
How the hell am I supposed to know?

The power lines are bending over,
Embracing the dried out grass,
Lighting the ground on fire,
Carving an underground path,
To a place where no path could possibly exist,
But a place where we can be content in that knowledge.

And above us chaos has become currency,
Food, milk, water,
Nothing is above water,
No path exists,
And with my eyes peering out of that black hole of humanity,
I see a flag floating in the water and sinking,
Like it is swimming to try to get down to you and me,
Like it lost its power over that side of humanity.

And like a fever dream that has a fever,
I wake up and chase after that mirror,
It looks back at me, a Cold War in our stares,
Paralyzed thin air ties up my skin,
My words crawl out of my brain and I begin…

It doesn’t matter who I am,
It doesn’t mater what I am,
It doesn’t matter how I am,

I am present.

Words hidden in history books,
Words hidden in the crevices of an avalanche,
Words sung by the wind,
Words carved into my skin,
Words that come to me in my hallucinations,
Words that just take up space,
Words formed by the clouds and stars in space,
Words I need to say at a slower pace,
Words that will be placed on my grave.

Let me say them to you….

And then finally you’ll know….

Who I really am.

I thought I had lost all sense,
Losing all of my senses,
Like they had run away,
On a train that I couldn’t see,
But now all my senses have come back to me,
And like that flag I am floating,
With nowhere to go,
Yet everywhere to be,
I’m floating.

Knit me together,
Pierce me together,
Pull me together,
Then rip me to shreds…

And I’ll know then,
Who I really am,
A collection of experiences,
A collection of words,
Some happy and some sad,
I’m nothing,
Yet everything…

Meaningless yet all meaningful….

Like a shining flag being held up by a fragile pole.

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