Through each situation,
           You’re a new person, conformist.
Body like a snake,
                The serpent himself
        See him? Contorting, twisting, fitting.
He’s the Man of the hour.
                Dripping like solid gold, are his words.
                        The “audience” stands captivated.
          Almost frozen, I’ve lost my tongue.
Unable to speak, I’m no match
          - For you.

Light seeps through the
Window cadences of rhythm
Like a heartbeat
Of true intentions
Misconceptions dodge the soul
Dust particles pass my face
Proving I’m still alive
Somewhere inside
This shell

At night my astrolabe
Can not contain the measures
Of uneasiness and skepticism arising
In this government induced anxiety