The Pen of the People

I was born in a red room in a big creepy house way up in the top of its topmost tower. My room overlooked the mountains, forest and lake. The wolves howled with my mother that night. Her wound seemed mortal but then closed on itself and we hugged each other in that little red room.

Unbeknownst to either of us while we nuzzled and slept, demons cast lots for the very souls in our chests. War was coming. Of war, I knew nothing. I was doughy, chubby and cute. My soft skin knew nothing of swords, leather or armour. All I wanted was the nipple. The manna was my safety and sanctuary.

But then I was ripped from that breast and forced to swallow the dry bread of facts and harsh truths. I put on a suit made of expectations and tied a tie of social and civic duty around my neck. Civilization is a millstone around all of our necks, pulling our hopes and dreams down to Ground Level. That's okay. No, really, it's fine. Deffo it's worth the trade. No pain no gain, know what I'm sayin?

I want running water and streets without potholes. I want my bedside light to go on when I flick the switch and my juries to work when I'm accused of a crime. We got systems in place I can't understand but I can appreciate nonetheless.

That's one thing I've learned from the pandemic – there's systems supporting me like a cradle, like my motherfuckin mum suckling me at her breast. And just like then, I take it for granted.

I never said thanks to Big Pharma or Big State. I never thanked petrochemical companies, or Wall Street banks or the global supply chain. Who else? Social media and the rest of the internet. Goddamn, what would a pandemic have been like without internet or phones?

Anyway, my point is, to sum up, in conclusion, all I'm really trying to say is that there's no way of knowing what it's like in someone else's head so we might as well give up and try to live our best lives in our Solo Cubes of Comfort and Distraction.

Life within Reach, that's what we're going for, people. Best content ever created mainlined into your spine. Drink it up, buttercup. There's no resistance. This is manna from heaven, the body of Christ. This is the purest manifestation of all that is good in the universe. You and I are doing the Right Thing. We are on track. We are moving in the Right Direction here, people. Come on now; don't stop!

I'm saying this cause I believe it. I believe in nothing. I'm only a pen. I'm the pen of the people. I say what you make me say. Just you. Specifically you with the wide eyes and brain stem staring me down.

I see you. Eye to eye, spine to spine, soul to soul. I'm inside you. I creep around, mostly at night. I come out of the dark alleyways and underground parking lots. I'm in the sewer grates and the windows of the abandoned building across the street.

I am your imagination. I'm a demon possessing you. I'm stuck to your spine like some kind of parasite, a perverted miscarriage of evolution making you wrinkle your nose and pucker your lips in disgust.

Let's kick it up a gear, oh deer in the headlights. Feel the centipede latch on your brainstem. Can you feel me spinning my silk around your nerve endings? Let me mingle with your synaptic fluid. Fuse with me and let two become one.