Metro-Mad Men
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Metro-Mad Men



The humming, the droning, the air conditioning. You've memorized the script blaring from the speakers. You are conditioned to repulsion by the scents of piss, the chatter, you partake in the cloud of pointless fear. The projections of ignorance crowd this train--which is never grounded on much, never really reaching a true destination....aimlessness.

On one side of the line, greed devours the scene and the herds of corporate cattle "load in". You must get your ultra-important ducks in squeaky-clean, perfect rows. You must get the most for your buck--you need the "real" experience of standing next to those whom you refuse to acknowledge in the moment.

In a moment that has the potential to bring joy, connection and community one is silently shunned to an inner shame, inner fear and contempt.

How does it feel to wear your big boy suit? Do you feel important? As you stare into the $600 device that will later cost you $40,0000 dollars in medical bills years later. What about that "premium" suit that is rooted in pain, exploitation and corruption ? You are the squeaky clean face of corporate savagery. How does it feel to know you are the "chosen" one. The one chosen to continue the cultural and economic genocide of those who are called "different".

Are you truly in the "now" of your absolute greed and insensitive existence ? At least your not in the "piss car". Is that why you are still smiling smugly ? because you can't afford to engage with anyone not wearing a suit? Someone's always told you, you were right, you were good, you were better. You may be too cheap to buy a car, too lazy to use a bike and rich enough to wear a Brooks Brother's suit in Lincoln Park but goddamn it you are just"too important" to help the blind man obviously broken down by the system you support. You awkwardly squish yourself into the tiny boxes so close to strangers you might as well be one....but you cling to yourself in that car. You are face to face with the ruin you partake in and masterfully deny it averting your gaze to your only friend....your phone. In your painfully obvious neglect of reality; of the purpose of existence-- your attention shifts to the fantasies broadcasting live from your bright sparkly ego center. It flashes manically "I'm better, I'm better!!" it blinks in the place of your crown.

You destroyed your crown because you needed that shiny, blinking, neon sign, the crown was just to, simple, and natural for your shiny, beady, needy eyes. For you, natural divinity is a joke-- the sign is your world.

You joyful trot about with your sparkly blinking lights, picking the flowers, torturing them, destroying the gardens.

You carelessly continue your destruction of life until you have ruined your kingdom and foolishly have the nerve to ask,

"Where's my crown?" ?

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