The Beginning of Something

This is one of the first things I ever wrote that I can honestly say I'm still happy with. It was written sometime in 1992 although it has been re-edited.

The masses are waiting

The masses are waiting. The masses grow heavy as they walk in awkward circles, bumping into each other with blank, emotionless faces and empty heads. They rise from the ground and continue to walk in circles, teeth and gums perfect. Skin flawless. Immaculate clothing and hair. They pulsate from deep within, waiting, needing instructions to break free from their routine. Patterns develop as they stumble around in broken circles waiting to synthesize. Synthesize information and absorb into memory. Instructions are given to each person at precisely the same time as they break into a well calculated movement towards a new destination. One of them breaks the mold and throws his hands madly in the air, overcome with the excitement of reaching the new destination. A scream of triumph escapes his quivering lips as he is immediately attacked by the others. He is beaten with fists and feet before he is able to process more of the unwanted thoughts. He lies motionless, so very dead as the others resume their awkward circle around him, stumbling in obvious patterns, careful not to touch the lifeless deviant as they wait for further instructions.

An old poem that was among the first things I ever wrote...it doesn't reflect my mindset now but I still think it's worth something...

let me in

I am standing in front of a mirror
Staring at my naked reflection
Calmly surrendering to the atmosphere of
casual sex and violence
that surrounds me
trying to figure out priorities
I can't see a thing through this
mindless ambition,
this sexy suicide
mission