April 3, 2009

Drinking from the Lethe (archive)

Maybe I should lean against the wall
And let the wall claim me.
And maybe I should lay out here,
And let the sky come down and stain me.
What use is my identity?
Does it mean anything to anybody?
If I die tomorrow, they will only know me
By the dog tags in my blood and body.

I'm mechanized, automatized,
I'm optimized to do my duties.
I'm sterilized, I'm socialized,
Lobotomized to be a beauty.

I've gotten lost between the circles,
I'm sick of offering resistance.
And all around me, addicts offer up their cells
For another hit of existence.
What use is my reality?
While everyone enjoys the songs of faith
They open their veins for another refrain,
While the conductor shoves a stick in their face.

I'm centralized, I'm normalized,
I'm strapped into the Great Divine,
Upgraded and revised, so I
No longer need to analyze.

And isn't it beautiful?
This passive perfection
Oh, I'm so grateful
For your helpful corrections
Yes, I am amazed
By what can be done. . . .
. . . . I'm hypnotized, I'm mezmerized
By all I've become.


Spring, 2002.

No comments: