Deconstruction of the I

 Trying to move...  

Paralysis of motivation...  

Work gets me out of the house...  

Because I have to...  

Because it's necessity...  

And right here right now I'm all I have to spend the night with...  

There's a time stamp on how long I'll be here in this place...  

Plans to relocate...  

I can't send out any roots...  

Not here, not now...  

People make me question their motives anyways...  

I no longer trust that they are who they say they are...  

Too many shitty experiences giving my heart away  

Only to have it get beat up and battered...  

I can still appreciate pretty things,  

But what's under the hood?  

What Lovecraftian horrors slither about in the shadows of their psychology?  

I've got my own demons to deal with...  

The clock keeps ticking...  

The ceiling fan is always on high...  

Clicking and rattling...  

There's an internet connection to keep my thoughts sometimes out of my head,  

But the news is always so dark,  

Like the decay of society,  

The constant struggle against darkness played out as the oceans steadily take on heat...  

The sun may be getting hotter,  

But the inner light is faltering...  

I'm sure there is good in the world,  

But it's a struggle to see it when everyday is a war between ignorance and reason,  

Self and other,  

Comfort and necessity...  

I often choose fiction to escape,  

But the real world is still always there once the end credits start to roll,  

And how much time do I waste shielding my eyes from the splatter and spray?  

The ants mindlessly go about their business gathering grains of sugar and crumbs of bread cast off from the dinner tables of the elites,  

But there's precious little waste that they allow to trickle down...  

Every ant dreams of being the queen,  

And so they dutifully tend to her needs while harboring little morbid fantasies of taking her out...  

Vicariously living her royal life while supporting the machine...  

They will sometimes mutiny...  

Biting and stinging and spraying her with formic acid...  

Sometimes for days...  

If there is another queen in the nest to install...  

Or if they were slaves raised to be servants...  

Ants are a lot like humans, socially speaking...  

There are politics and there are power struggles...  

Some workers can lay eggs,   

Unfertilized, these grow to be males who then mate with the queen changing the genetic make-up of the hive...   

Changing the scent trails and the pheromones...  

Left versus right...  

Of the few animal species who can recognize themselves in a mirror the way humans do,  

Ants are one...  

They see themselves in the reflection...  

They are capable of recognizing "I"...  

The individual must be essential for the proper function of the hive mind...  

And we think we are so special,  

So unique,  

When, in reality, with all of our perceived need for individuality, we are just catering to the hive mind...  

Slaves to the ruling class...  

If one gets taken down, another rises to rule...  

It's just how we're made...  

It's just what we do...  

We tell ourselves we have a unique purpose,  

But we are just cells in a larger body...  

Building nests designed to keep the population growing...  

Housing complexes and high-rises...  

Asphalt scent trails...  

And as the credits start to roll by...  

The real world is still there...  

As the dreams begin to fade after the alarm clock brays,  

The real world is still there...  

As we come closer to learning how little matter is in matter,   

And how the everything came to be...  

The real world is still there...