excuse me i am not myself

ever since the pull and the speedy robotic activity
i have gone to a place without lights or windows
entrapped in my pool of thoughts
i am able to lift myself up from the drown
the space in which i accompanied has disintegrated
and the smoke lurks all around
 i embody a stitch entangled  in the threads of the
shirt that i was forcibly
given to wear by the coat wearing machines
that grind all over me  whilst they
 feast in the the lion's den
i shake and feel my bones of my frame
i am faced with something large
i tug on my sleeves and realize i am
covering up the rips and tares
this was not the way i imagined it
the lion is grinning and knows he is
going to get what he wants
all it is is the monotony of motion
im supposed to do as im told
the coat wearing ones look down upon
people like me
i can soak up the hostility of the
clock and perfection
i can do what i'm told but
what is the point
if you dont believe
in what you do
does the ship depart without me or do i  jump aboard
it isnt something i wanted
there is tension in the room
i  picture black birds erratically
abandoning dead tree branches
chaos is natural
imperfect is perfect.