poem from my anarchist youth

I wrote this sometime in late 1999. Wish I thought my writing was much improved, but I’m not so sure.

this place
it sells everything.
inspiration
words to describe it
colors once belonging to rainbows
nature itself
and insurance against nature.
it can make you a soul
and mass market lore, euphoria, depression, any addiction.
they want you to be on the market
look like what is in demand
what do you want to buy from others?
you are carefully designed, developed and advertised.
are you a safe investment
can you be recreated
are you a superbowl commericial
or an item at a flea market?
are you merely a mannequin in the windows
accessorize with bats or guns
babies or fur
which ever matches best.

or have you found yourself in chains
at least profitable for parts
making the machine
run
screaming but muzzled
with a diamond, 14K bit.

to fail or not to fail, what is your response

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