WE

The rotting steal infrastructures, lines of rectangles and triangles screamed, crying at the passage of a quiet mass, solemn with 20/80 vision. We hear the dulled version through hours of foggy memory and swallows of cheap liquid poisons that burn our throat and churn our stomach. We move as a flock, as an entity shuffling our feet and tripping against the strings of nothing, as nothing smiles back. We are one, the unity of ten thousand tragedies, indifferent to us as they trudge along. We are dizzy from the madness that perpetuates with time and those quiet moments of solitude, though rare, often irreparable. We have one aim, one mind geared toward the three pleasures eminent enough to corrupt. We name them: God, love, and drugs. We name them magical realism, selfish satisfaction, and false sensation. We name them excuses not to think, immoral though admirable. One day we may name them petty, but not today.

The subway roars; our impatient anticipation transforms every clank and echoed footstep into a raging machine of transportation, eating the tracks as it comes our way - certain to remain its cycle long after we end ours. But our imagination fabricates sounds and it doesn't come for another five minute eternity. Flying underground we fail to determine the temperature of the current swooping us up with the weightlessness of feathers that form a wing. As we fall to our knees in suffocating laughter we feel the glare of solitary shadows, soldiers of the straight-edge, kings of condemnation. As if pressure diminishes in the pool of now vague sensation, our body melts into a misshapen cup, unable to hold substantial content without spilling all over your shirt. We are stains. We are the embarrassment of past mistakes still apparent to everyone, "Not so past," we laugh. We are a confused temporary agnostic, like everyone else. We are waiting for justification to believe in a God but we do not find it. We tried to fall in love but we stopped believing in it.

Today we admitted our disbelief to a surprisingly apathetic audience. We spoke with our trembling voice, the words advocates use to excite emotion, but we found them unconvincing. Our eyes filled with the tears we spent years building up, but the millstones pulled harder and the ocean was none-the-less drowning us. We almost lost our footing at the halting screech-stop of the iron beast, to the amusement of the annoyed wrinkled faces among us. To lose our faith, we feel aged; to lose our mind, we feel we never used it in the first place.