Type Rope

Samson Salinas

A knot stuck in my throat.
I'm choking on my lungs as I ponder on things I could've said.
On the occasional drifting tone I manage to mumble out.
My heart still shut, locked from the outside.

I fear the fear of consequence; they'll say they won’t need me
dread in mind, my heart not mine.

Im changing my way of balance just so others wont fall
but the thread im on begins to sway uncontrollably,
as I imagined it always would.
Anticipating my fall, knowing my drop will come loud
and everyone will then be aware of my humiliation,
that even I couldn't keep my feet in line

I am a shipwreck.

I look forward as everyone seems to understand simple lines.
An extraordinary vocabulary that flows through their lips,
like a melody of euphoric ecstacy.
Their tongues twist and whistle as they send my letters of incoherent chirps,
is it true that their language is more fluctuating than mine?
I find myself trapped in a plethora of my own discrete burdens.
Hiding behind my rage, I'm filtered to not chant my true explication.

I cross my heart, hoping to cage my soul forever,
in a corpse that will soon know different is better.
To be different is to be my own version of what humanity could have achieved,
I am a goal no one can accomplish.
A level of maturity that withstands the nature of the people on earth,
While becoming whole; a tree of life and purity.
I rid myself of the sin of humanity.
Cascare is what comes to mind when I imagine how far they’ll will go.
They will drive themselves mad from their own crooked clock brain,
they do not think for themselves; all set on a timer of when and where to explode,
how to sleep, when to eat, what to do on a daily;
A box of their own insanity.

I fear the day I grow up, I will fall deep into misery as I too become one with the hive.
I am human after all.
Until then I am to speak their corrupt language, just to not slip on my own feet; my type rope.

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