No beauty pagent

This isn’t a beauty pageant

or a dating website

or popularity contest

so stop framing

and filtering shadows

and Photoshopping blemishes

and grains of dust

out of your life

stop wasting my time

as we walk in slow-motion

down the street

to our own soundtracks

because silence

of ourselves, our thoughts, our feeling, our desires

are too often frightening

a million people

trapped in our own prison dance clubs

of our self-constructed asylums

we only look in the eyes of

ourselves in the mirror

ignoring exposed hearts

bleeding slowly

twitching on the sidewalk

who will be a Samaritan?

we only cross the street

to perpetuate

our consumerist tendencies

to define ourselves

by these clothes on our back

and these shoes on our feet

and to meet mirror image friends

who persuade us further

into hoarding pocessions

which begin pocessing us

I’m perpetually flabbergasted

by a self-aware madness

of denial

and refusal

to say we are a puzzle

of an imploding system

built on the foundation of imaginary funds

and digital debt reaching beyond the Himalayas

of fantastical speculation

of an unpredictable broken

roller-coaster

This isn’t a beauty pageant

but who will be a Samaritan?

and who else

will we need to squash like a bug?

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