wearing a loose buttoned shirt, untucked
adorned with a field of pixelated flowers
red, blue, yellow, and a slight hint of orange
matching the vibrancy of the unwashed shorts
splattered with a paint of butterflies
playfully dancing through the imaginary sparkles
emanating from the tourist's sharp eyes
forever fixated at a certain invisible point
millions of miles from where the tourist is standing
yet always perfectly level to the tourist's pupils
a certain somewhere, far from my goals
too perilous, too foreboding the path will be
if I were to walk along it
but how would I know?
I've never taken the first step
all these while, always putting a little too much thought
regarding the opinions of others
however oblivious, however obnoxious
and twist them to be a mold of my own young mind
a skewed perspective of the harshness of reality
a lack of understanding of what makes the world
a habitat that I deserve to take shelter in
I stand behind the tourist
perfectly shadowed from the blinding light
of the office draped in white
I listen to the tourist speak
wise words to the source of light
"Life is a neverending cycle
we wake up, we work, we go back home, we sleep
and everything falls apart as we fall asleep
tomorrow, and every tomorrow after tomorrow
everything rises again as we rise awake
but what if
I'm not saying it will happen, but just what if
one day when we rise awake
we see that everything is at stake?"
The tourist sheds off their skin
the hard, restrictive exoskeleton
a hope for humanity
exhibited so blatantly on the office floor
carpeted in purple, like a pile of beautiful dust
shimmering through the skies
never ending their lies
The tourist holds my hand
and brings me on a stress-free walk
through a man-made garden in the office
on the twenty-fifth floor of a sustainable building
built by the bruised hands of an underwater person
struggling to earn a few cents
for their yearly salary
to raise a broken family of five children
who all dream of running away
from their abusive parents
their belt-whipping hands
pour scalding water onto the fish-heads
of their bastard children
stabbing their cat-eyes with lit cigarette butts
smacking their horse-lips with cracked frying pans
while preaching great words of advice
"The world is so damn cruel, my babies
I want to kill all of you
so that you do not need to face the horrors
of building a man-made garden in the office."
The garden resembles a rainbow through the white clouds
and tiny specks of beautiful dust form the leaves
red, yellow, pink, purple
perhaps more purple than any color
as if the pitch black of outer space
has emitted the world's tiniest ray of light
the light that shines hope onto the people
and exposes, in broad daylight
all of their true selves
that the people of the world are all artists
worthy of a golden monument
containing all of their lives' sufferings
being exhibited so proudly in front of me
as I stare at the top of the monument
a fish-head with eyes gazing at me
as if I am the most beautiful being in the universe
as if I am a light machine
saving myself from a certain death of despair
ridding myself of hopelessness
and rising above the clouds, to become a tourist
in a country of interstellar dust
and I immediately realize
no, not just realize
a paradigm shift
that we are all just interstellar dust
from a bright star that has just exploded
or are we going to be that very bright star
there are two ways of seeing everything
who we are right now
our very weak hearts, on the verge of giving up
could soon become a green planet
sustaining the wonderful lives of the underwater people
yet this is just a dream
seemingly unrealistic, far too optimistic
but a dream is only a real dream
if we are tourists in the ideal future world
crafted by our most ambitious imagination
I simply cannot give up
For the sake of a different future
I will brace this hellish fate
break through the curse that defined me
and rise to the very top
for my dream is simple
I want to be a light machine
emanating rays of hope
along all the right paths of life
inspiring others to seek their inner beauty
Now I see
the experience of being in despair
of having lost all hope in success
of having nothing to lose
this is the anomaly
the fear that is crawling underneath my unblemished skin
this is what I need
to disrupt my perfect life
as now, what I see
is that there is nowhere else to go
but up
ascend the heavenly mountains
break through the atmospheric ceiling
and become one with the brightest star
Now, watch me shine.
the hard, restrictive exoskeleton
a hope for humanity
exhibited so blatantly on the office floor
carpeted in purple, like a pile of beautiful dust
shimmering through the skies
never ending their lies
The tourist holds my hand
and brings me on a stress-free walk
through a man-made garden in the office
on the twenty-fifth floor of a sustainable building
built by the bruised hands of an underwater person
struggling to earn a few cents
for their yearly salary
to raise a broken family of five children
who all dream of running away
from their abusive parents
their belt-whipping hands
pour scalding water onto the fish-heads
of their bastard children
stabbing their cat-eyes with lit cigarette butts
smacking their horse-lips with cracked frying pans
while preaching great words of advice
"The world is so damn cruel, my babies
I want to kill all of you
so that you do not need to face the horrors
of building a man-made garden in the office."
The garden resembles a rainbow through the white clouds
and tiny specks of beautiful dust form the leaves
red, yellow, pink, purple
perhaps more purple than any color
as if the pitch black of outer space
has emitted the world's tiniest ray of light
the light that shines hope onto the people
and exposes, in broad daylight
all of their true selves
that the people of the world are all artists
worthy of a golden monument
containing all of their lives' sufferings
being exhibited so proudly in front of me
as I stare at the top of the monument
a fish-head with eyes gazing at me
as if I am the most beautiful being in the universe
as if I am a light machine
saving myself from a certain death of despair
ridding myself of hopelessness
and rising above the clouds, to become a tourist
in a country of interstellar dust
and I immediately realize
no, not just realize
a paradigm shift
that we are all just interstellar dust
from a bright star that has just exploded
or are we going to be that very bright star
there are two ways of seeing everything
who we are right now
our very weak hearts, on the verge of giving up
could soon become a green planet
sustaining the wonderful lives of the underwater people
yet this is just a dream
seemingly unrealistic, far too optimistic
but a dream is only a real dream
if we are tourists in the ideal future world
crafted by our most ambitious imagination
I simply cannot give up
For the sake of a different future
I will brace this hellish fate
break through the curse that defined me
and rise to the very top
for my dream is simple
I want to be a light machine
emanating rays of hope
along all the right paths of life
inspiring others to seek their inner beauty
Now I see
the experience of being in despair
of having lost all hope in success
of having nothing to lose
this is the anomaly
the fear that is crawling underneath my unblemished skin
this is what I need
to disrupt my perfect life
as now, what I see
is that there is nowhere else to go
but up
ascend the heavenly mountains
break through the atmospheric ceiling
and become one with the brightest star
Now, watch me shine.
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