Like bugs in amber, the first and last time we saw each other is one and the same. Your gaze makes people move like molasses. One eye speaks volumes while the other hides your true intentions : cruel, cunning, and credible, to boost your street cred, of course. The things that phase you come from another planet, where half the time your gaps are hidden by the perpetual cloud of smoke forming a halo above your blond curls. Haziness leads to clarity, builds respect, forms more than just chemical bonds. They know you are one of them now. The clothed masses are a single blob in a grey urban jungle. Splashing through the rain puddles scattered amongst the curving cobblestone streets, you see your reflection rippled in the muddy rain waters, the grimy shop windows, the steaming espresso that won’t talk to you no matter how much you want it to.
Like the Pied Piper, you are a natural-born leader. Whether coming or going, the crowd runs after you like lemmings scurry off of cliffs. Even when you’re absent you’re more present than ever. Eyes scan the musty darkness for cobalt lasers, but all they see are the distortions of the disco ball, spinning round and round mercilessly to the back beat. Bones crumble into a fine powder in frigid temperatures, but your reserve stays solid–these walls are never coming down, not as long as you can help it. Your soul’s very own Iron Curtain. Outward positivity is a Venetian mask to be worn at all social occasions, save for funerals and business negotiations. Emotion is weakness, is servility to power. If you show it you’re a slave for life.
Except the evil ones are inside of you already, the demons have claimed your mind and they’re coming after your heart next–that pulsating stone of silver that never seems to quiver, no matter how cold you are. Before you fall victim to your own shadow, tell the blob why it should care. Use the most powerful tool in your temple to spread your gospel, even if it cancels out your transparent halo. Time stops every time you speak, and these rare, spare moments are the gems of existence.