Walking through the hard, cold doors
Stepping on the hard, cold floors
with bare feet
and a silk gown
feeling as if in The Twilight Zone
or atleast way, far out of town
the nurse tells me to lie down
and she'll be right back around
with the
sterilizer
tranquilizer
poison
mind killer
thought thief
universal conformer
or simply
shot
with a monotone, passionless voice,
she tells me it'll all be over soon,
and I'll be just like the rest of them,
no free will after the injection
I try to scream and protest
but nothing comes out
I don't want this idiocity
oh why won't she hear me
why won't she listen
I'm not like the others
I can't be
I think
I read
I feel
It's against everything they believe in
Running down the halls
faster than their fake faces can
out the paper thin, mirror doors,
leading to a courtyard of
plastic trees &
plastic benches &
plastic people
doing plastic things like
looking in the many mirrors placed everywhere &
talking with no end
I refuse to be one of their barbie dolls
I'll go where my feet take me
and never stop
running
or thinking
or reading
or feeling
or going against them
because what a wonderful thing it is to have a vivid mind
they can't take that away
not now
not ever
my mind is my vice
leaving me vulnerable, yet powerful
But if it's wrong to have a mind,
please let me die along with my injustices

Under the porch


of someone’s apartment


shrouded in a cloud of


cigarette smoke and a


lingering winter’s breeze lies


twinkling plastic jewels


in the damp dirt

---$---$---


Hi there! Want to be my friend?
I'm a very popular girl!
Welcome to my dream!
Welcome to my world!

First of all we'll have to change
Your clothing and your hair.
I'll put on your makeup.
Right now you're just so... bare!

Now... you'll need to
say some things...
I'll prompt you. Just recieve.
Cuz right now your conversation
Is silly and naive.

Those friends of yours?
They're LOSERS.
They are not OK.
Just think and talk like one of us...
... we're happy as can be!

You have another problem.
That POETRY lacks class.
Just take all that writing
and throw it in the trash.

See! Now that you are not yourself
Now that you're unkind
Now that you're my
Queen Bee drone
and you don't have a MIND...

You are My Creation!
Oh, c'mon... don't be blue...
We welcome you to Stepford...

... where you're no longer YOU.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 5/22/2013

I told you that night
When the temperature hovered
At 32 degrees Fahrenheit that
Girls like me don't have a god
We are the girls with
Dark cherry lips
Cigarette smiles
That get drugs for free
We break hearts
With no remorse
Vanity is our religion
Always made up for photographs
In thick makeup and black clothes
We worship our goddess Aphrodite
And she gives us the power to be
Invincible

Barbie has the prettiest face
says the little girl to her reflection
how could I reach such perfection?
If only somehow I could trace
Barbie's outline and take her place
And so this became her obsession
to doubt herself and fear rejection
So there, her life became a maze.

Barbie's really only plastic.
The realization comes much too late.
All these years have been wasted.
Ideals shouldn't be so drastic.
A stressed out model is about to break,
"Don't worry, we'll Photoshop" they said.

your warm smiles melt any cold except for this fake plastic snow

Even plastic collects dust
Bright fibres of pink become dull magentas
From the countless years and endless days of Still life Sharp lines and smooth contours of artistically machined plastic toys become fuzzy as hazy dust
Piles
Heaps
And overflows
From one
Single
Fact
Inactivity?
Unappreciated worth?
Discontent?
Laziness?
No
None of these
The dust collects
Piles
Heaps
Even overflows
From USELESSNESS
The things that the dust is attracted to
That the dust clings to
Are the things that in comparison to the things that are imparitive to our existance and our health
Are useless
Are plastic