I try, I try, I find, I find, myself, myself, going under, falling under.
Where is this place? Where am I? I can’t see the light, I feel the chains around my throat.
Why are these people dragging me? Why am I smiling? Stitches in my lips? Twitching, living, here, I’m here – but, I’m not here. I gasp when they pull, pull the chains, pull me forward, whipping my back, but pulling, always, constant, here, I am here, trying, to go forward.
I have my hands free, my hands create things. The people say I’m radiant, smiling, here, great, I’m great, you’re great, you love me, I love you too. Your chains look nice – at least we can bleed here together. Maybe this smile is genuine. Maybe.
But once again, pulled forward, you’re gone, I miss you, I miss you so, my heart, is it there? I remembered them taking it out and putting something else back in. I live off black fluid now – they pump it into my chest. It smells like oil and earth. The fluid keeps my heart going – they push me forward, once again, I’m forward.
But I miss you. I don’t like to bleed alone. I’m going to cry tonight (and tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow…)
It’s another day – my hands, they’re ready, ready to make things, great things! They say I only have a little time, so I create, quickly, carefully. The others give me nods of approval when I’m finished – the stitches in their lips stretch wider than usual, as if they’re smiling because they want to! I did that! I made them smile, but what about me? Am I already smiling?
I don’t remember anymore.
They’re back again – the chains pull me forward, forward, forward.
“Hey, hey, don’t leave! Don’t go too far! I don’t know what I’d do without you!” A friend calls from a path besides me.
“But all I want to do is go! I love you, but I need to leave. Weren’t you leaving soon, anyway? The others always left…It only makes sense for you to leave too.” I call back and she shakes her head. She’s pulled forward – we are all pulled forward.
I don’t see her again. Ever.
I think they replaced the rest of her insides. The heart always goes first though. That’s where the dreams reside – can’t have those pesky things in there for too long, or the hopeful sparkle in people’s eyes begins to blind the masses.
I wish I could blind these people.
I also wish I were blind myself. Would be easier that way.
I’m just waiting till the rest of me is gone – till they replace everything else. Till they hook me up to the generator at the end of the line, where my life is given to power this world.
But, regardless, I will still create. I will still be…here, here? Here.
Is that my job now? Is that what I’ll be used for? To create laughter, happiness, joy? Is that my purpose? I wonder how they funnel that out of your body…I mean, the wiring shouldn’t be too difficult I suppose.
Maybe this is why I’m here.
So hook me up. I’m ready, take me there, take me now – if this is all I’m good for, then make me useful.
I’ll pump my insignificant self into this world.
And I will continue creating till I lose my own two hands.
It’s in my code after all. We all have to follow the code.
Free me (chain me, beat me, drain me, give me to this twisted, fucked up, world).
Because I’m a piece of the system – here for you, perfect my wiring, perfect my shiny new insides – I know you make them just for me. You always told me I was special. I’m special, right?
I promise, I will be yours forever (until I am gone, gone, gone).