Whysteria: Poetry from a Cursed Box

Go Back to Them

I guard my mind now
like the way a child
guards a locked box
of belongings.

Opportunists see our minds
as a repository of
product knowledge,
a holder of
shallow
words
and illusions.

Very few contain messages
of inspiration,
as they know that could
lead us away
from their product.

And when you try to block
their messages,
the media which hosts them
malfunctions.

I don't want them
telling me how to
think and feel.

I am
none of their business,
unless they physically
walk up into my neighborhood,
showing me how
their product
can help us solve
existential problems,
because we're all just now
surviving
in this world of holograms.

I don't want your product.
I don't need your messages.
Stay away from my mind.
Stop trying to manipulate me.

Pray, people,
Pray
that we can come away
from this world
of illusion.

They don't care if you live
or die,
as long as you buy.

Your neighbors,
your friends,
want you to stay alive.

They are the cord of silver
that tethers us to reality,
and to life itself.

Come back to them.