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
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...
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
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
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
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