I hear the voice in my head
like an announcement
heard from a METRO platform.
The hive says, “Be a good little boy,
and watch your tv.
“Let it transmit its wisdom.
And you shall know what whitens,
And you shall know what brightens.”
I sneak out the words,
and run my fingers over them.
And breath them into me.
Sometimes, I choke on them,
and they burn so sweetly in my throat.
I wash the black smudges off my fingers;
scrubbing until I have blood on my hands.
And I pretend to know what the hell
everybody is talking about, when they talk
about the mind meals that have been piped to them.
Water-cooler lingua franca is a foreign tongue.
I fear I will be found a fraud,
and they will hardwire me,
ramming the cable interneuronally.
I awake to nightmares of banality.
A steady drip of banality, infecting
every minute of the rest of my existence.
Someday, I’ll be free.
Someday, I’ll roam to the world beyond
and I’ll find a colony of sweet solitude.
“Shh! Don’t tell anyone.”