Words fail me. My thoughts, utterly disregarded, abandon me and flee from this stifling entity. Then, there is mere silence. A silence as void as a newborn’s mind, as inexperienced as its senses. Only to be crowded by the infectious constructs of another man.

I listen obediently and thus obey instinctively. The answers align perfectly on the once blank slate and order a false purpose to my existence. They cling and adhere themselves to my conscience, till at last becoming it. Normal. Plain. Uniform.

Who am I, if not a slave to a life of mere conformity. A slave to my conditioning. A slave to my inescapable body programmed to follow metronomic routines. Every awakening: a cause of agitation not pacific illumination. Every action: a division between selfish and cooperative impulses. Being continuously told what to think. One letter, to determine my product quality: An Alpha. A Beta. An A. A B.

The ultimate fulfilment.

I wonder beyond this disempowerment. Past the scripts of this notorious play. Far from this cannibalistic reliance.
Work for a whole life to get to the point of working for a whole life,
I wonder if then there is a third life. A free life.
I wonder what else there is to feed the spirit with than garbage. If there is any pesticide for me.
I wonder how long it will take for all of us to realise,
that we are those who we most despise.