Material Identity

Coherent masks of beige are what we wear at birth

Skin too smooth, too gentle to be disguised

But when our hands reach into the abyss of reality

The colors change our perception, change the mask we wear.

Skin is tampered with by the things

The things that will never disappear

Only accumulate before our eyes, before our hands

Grab more and more before it's gone

Before it's too late.

And as we grow, we begin to identify with the things, the places, the people.

We become colored by our surroundings

The truth dismissed,

Buried in the shell of the human body

Molted off since day one.

Something we have forgotten, we will never again understand

As long as the vulnerable strings of our hearts are tied to each treasured possession.

Treasured as if it weren’t fools gold that we were holding

But instead a valuable flask of life, of self worth.

So we color with crayons

And pretend to ignore the invisible remnants of wax that gloss over the skin

Creating an impenetrable barrier

Body plastic to the touch.

And the stares of others how they seem to melt through each layer

Piece by piece as if there was something underneath worth finding

Worth searching for

So we continue to accumulate masks

One on top of another

If we can hold it we will take it

Wear it,

Become it.

Freedom from finding out who we really are

Who we had the potential to be

Before color accumulated on our surface

Sinking into the thin layers of our bodies

Until the term “human” no longer applies to what we are...

A material

Something to hold, to look at

Windowshop by the things in our hair

Gadgets in our pockets

Molding our bodies like clay pieces, pawns of industrial production

Fragile, beautiful,

Complete because we believe we are.

Yet the human heart longs for the space in between

Where A piece is missing

The piece of nothingness

The piece of humanity We lost from a time we could not remember.

But before the puzzle is completed

By the array of skin, dry and beige

The face we so often see,

Covered by intricate masks

Must be wiped clean

Through an understanding that we are more than the

Fabricated society we have always been.

Yet fabrication has kept the human body strong for too long

Relied upon right through the end

The real face of humanity

Already shedding off beneath the layers

No resistance built

And the impossible way it is to scrape away layers that have been tattooed to the skin

Ink to stop the persecution.

The blood that rises to the surface painted as well,

Pumping from the heart to the veins

The body forever invaded.

Our attempts are forgotten

When asked how much we cost

And we count the things that surround our body's

That are worth more than our minds

Because thoughts are more confusing than fine crystal

A sparkling transparent mass of beauty

And backwards in time we float

Towards the place we are so familiar with

Where we long to touch

Acrylic faces

And gold studded things

Buttons of our identities that we wear proudly on our chests

Because it's the cycle that keeps us forever moving

Wanting

Trying to be something

We will never truly achieve

We can only see our true self from the reflection

Of our materials

And don't question its validity

 

Never empty handed

Never human

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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