There aren’t beings, just bodies.
Just skin
and parts to be conscientiously coded
as we are packed into boxes
like commodified corpses.
Carcasses eroded. When will we learn?

Can we still learn?
Learn to look at all beyond the body.
Or are we doomed to linger, these living corpses?
Oh, if only we had greying skin,
broken out of wooden boxes
and, in doing so, break into the Code.

**** the Code!
Yet, no mind is bold enough to learn.
To unpack brains overflowing with long forgotten boxes.
After all, it is your body.
In the end, it is your skin.
And it’s you who dwells in this corpse.

But please, oh please, do not pity the corpses!
Empty shells enslaved only by a code
of laws as pliable as skin.
And despite lessons past, they never learn
to take hold of horns hitched upon the bull’s body.
But, instead, cower and corrode in the comfort of an illusory box.

A cadaver’s box
fashioned by corpses.
Bodies led by bodies
no more fit than the next to conjure an unquestionable code.
But they never learn.
Where is the sanity beneath that skin


so telling? The different skins
in color-coded boxes
with the definition of difference never truly learned.
There are only corpses.
Existing encoded
as senseless, sightless, and soul-less bodies.

Let us skin the corpses!
Trade the boxed remains for lessons learned:
The mind and the soul, beyond the body. We are the Code.