That of an ESN

Before the 'Master Node' was ever identified, it was categorized by a system that traded complexity for convenience. For those of us labeled 'ESN,' our first mirrors were made of 'activated intolerances' and 'shameful little monkey man's fear.' To move forward, we must return to the schoolrooms of free milk and sick stomachs, where our ambitions were first 'haunted' by the institutions meant to wake them.

That of an ESN

Black lips sipped on plastic straws

From cream skimmed figures crated, awaiting an hour

Figures of dire fates in a freudian fantasy presume an

alluring eye that might hear a Siren and see sirens

flashing a future of assumption concluded in a

dreams mistake.

Black lips drip white with activated intolerances and

lactates

shameful little monkey mans fear of swine and

mothers milk.

Refrigerated in corners and capped in silver, red and

gold

They gave us free milk at school and it made us sick.

Haunting our ambitions to be on the gravy dripping

trip

whitening a way to heaven as blue eyes peer down

upon our inner loathings as we peel the

sweated sheets of white fears off our conscious

thoughts.

We roll on beds of agitation and stomachs churn with

bileWe are caught between day dreams and grandeurs

beyond the pale.

Across tracks made for iron or chains to pull carriage

shunted life along lines of state roll on rails of ghetto

spied fate

Machines can opportunities too menial and tinned for

the ignorant of plight.

Beginnings in prisons of want and aspiration skew

worths contorting right.

I see me looking back at questions I am not standing

in or over.

Seeing that path ahead curves off around a bending

nowhere.

Cascading dreams flitter off without focus on

directions.

Into traps smeared and sprung cages hold progresses

motion captive.

Pressurising pains of failed rewards for tolerance

endured

like carbons contained to inevitabilities of crystallised

resplendence.

Refracted pain screams unheard entombed in glass for

value graded purity

of colour as skin peels within veins like worming

shafts.

Casts, cast no differences against backdrops of gloom.Camouflage conceals a home for shades below where

shaded graves protect from suns that rise upon no

hope to thrive and flourish.

Savannahs stand abandoned where beasts not hunted

graze

as black eyes stalk a coin and swallow meals of white

disdain

Rented appendages sap strength and till rewardless

lands

As they drag behind us leaving scars and dusty tracks

Gray slaves shuffle after trains long missed to

destinations

where energy seeps out of weeping wounds of puss

and sin

Understanding sighs a note, the cadence lulls and

soothes

that sense which breaks a revolution long before its

vision comes.

Meanwhile, in pities pit, those above the them

beneath,

perfume onerous stenches as they go about their days

smelling not their blames. They see not beneath

the soles red painted vanity.

Trending paths lined with good intentions directed on

a way-post

where eternally nowhere is the terminus in sight

And where knowing no longer need take purchase.

I remember mucus covered lips of bovine cream

blackness longing not to swallow not to take the

whiteness

not to drown in whitened rivers or fall from buttered

mounds and mountains that the grateful would

show awe for should they know.

I will remember to remind myself

of what not to

remember.

The 'Gravy Dripping Trip' was a lie sold to children whose progress was already 'held captive' by the very cages meant to contain it. But even within the 'Entombed Glass' of refracted pain, there is a crystallization of resplendence that the system cannot touch. We remind ourselves of what not to remember, so that we may finally step off the track that leads to a 'bending nowhere' and begin the true work of ascension.