My Utopia

Written on the early hours of January 1st 2009, under the influence, i don't recall writing most of it...

In a world where darkness is a haven and humanity has crumbled into
nothing more than distant and unsure memories snatched by those who long
for it, Where civilization has been diminished by the crush of a dollar
bill that fell from the sky and crashed into our existence, Where
crucial emotions such as happiness, sadness, anger and pleasure have
become  forbidden taboos and have fallen in the same basket as Heroin
and Cocaine. Drugs, Where 2 types of people exist; Those who reside
outside the glass box, and those who are still imprisoning themselves in
it, Where the earth has finally taken its sweet revenge, served on an
icy fatal platter, by using our source of gleaming light and tingling
heat, the sun, as it's most powerfully devastating secret weapon against
us, Where rare beauty in the form of dark anomalies that hover over us
so gracefully are the sourcse of all the fear amongst those who dwell
beneath, in groud zero, Where people are checklisted systematically
everyday because death has become as common as a mug of cofee in the
morning, Where humanity is mimicked by those who see it as a golden idol
in the form  of a key to salvation, Where invisibility caused by the
lack of other's attention is our defense mechanism against those who
shun change and inequality, Where perfection is lost and is treated like
the loss of the lowest button on a shirt that nobody buttons anyways,
useless, Where the mere grazing of humanity on our fingertips causes
incomprehendable and chaotic behaviour that they themselves cannot
decipher, Where the De-volution has had it's impact on the minds of the
enlightened, Where purity and innocence are raped and vulgarly abused
like common STD-infected w****s, When suddenly childish make-believe
games become our protective shield against that which we don't fully
understand, Where the sound of an orgasm is concidered heresy,
blasphemy, a spit in the face of the queen, Where beings merge into
superiority and give rise to a brand new civilization untainted by the
filth-covered hands of politics whose mere words become epicenters of
multiple earthquakes that divide nations into water and oil, equally
polar magnets. Co-existence is neither wishful thinking nor the whisper
that follows your blow on your birthday candles every year, Where the
yearning for sex, happiness and even depression become as unbearable as a
blunt knife that has been stabbed and twisted between each of your
vertebra on your spine and digs into you more and more as the days go by
as a constant reminder of the fact that your emotionally and mentally
excruciating pain is being translated into physical pain, Where our
addiction to pain and suffering becomes a glorious masochistic desire to
feel the part of humanity which is easiest to find. Pain. This forces
sel-inflicted harm to remind ourselves that beneath this thick exterior
of lies, ommition, half-truths and misconceptions, our last particle of
humanity struggles to sparkle bright enough to serve as an SOS signal to
the stampede of the existing who have lost their way in the darkness of
a room that is caused by "CENSORED" banners blocking all the sources of
light and oxygen of this glass box, Where droplets of water are treated
like fist-sized diamonds found only in the rarest and most
impossible-to-reach locations around the 7 seasm which will soon dry up
and turn the world into a giant Grand Canyon that will result in nothing
more than yet another quarrell over land and boundaries, Where Leaders,
Kinds, Presidents, Priests and Sheiks make decisions that could send
the world into oblivion based only on the addition of a couple of
centimeters to their wallets, Where our eyes, noses, ears, mouths and
genitals are sewn shut with unbreakable titanium chains to prevent those
who know about the ONE snowflake that will provoke an avalanche from
exposing the truth to those who stuff their dollar bills into their
mouths, acting like a rectangular piece of paper is the magical cure to
each and every disease and difficulty in their lives, Where
communication is broken and the only means of information we get from
the supposedly unbiased and honest news reporters turns out to be
nothing more than lies that are muffled by the dollar bills in their
throats that is sucking up all theiir dignity, delf-respect and moral
judgement while they spill lies, Where 28 days in the dark seems to pass
by as slowly as the transition between 603 B.C. and 3,373 A.D because
of our desperate need for human emotion. Perhaps a hypodermic needle
stabbed straight through the skull and into the part of the cerebellum
that longs for just a gulp of what it used to cherish the most and soak
it all up like a child's sponge-like brain which holds on tight to any
kind of new information for as long as possible, Where the Great
Pyramids start being referred to as "the pile of bricks", and the Eifell
tower begins being called "that big metal thing-y coming out form the
floor",  Where the inspiring relaxing wave of genious that Beethoven's
5th symphony sends softly through your ears and ease your mind becomes
as appreciated as the belief in the existence of true love, Where
everything you've grown to love has disappeared, and from the ground
rise new structures built with computer chips, cables, and
technologically advanced equipment that has no meaning to anyone besides
the companies who's charts keep rising. Where the Beethoven CD lays
shattered in a pile of garbage surrounded by ripped pages from
Shakespear plays, shredded originals by Picasso, and a box of memories
in the form of a photo album that used to remind someone of how happy
they were, or how hard of a smile they had to fake to take a picture,
because even though the world is on the verge of drowning in its own
tears due to pure negligence of pulling the plug from the drain, a
picture is not acceptable if there are no smiles so that one day,
somebody should find these fragmented memories of a civilization that
was once the envy of other civilizations of the world. Where pictures
are real, where you don't have to go through the suffering and
disappointment of finding out that behind each smile, there is a lie,
and behind every joyful look there is a beam of hate shooting right
between the eyes, and behind every hug there is disgust and hesitation,
because the amazing gift of variety, personality and uniqueness is not
seen as a personal army tag anymore. Where being different will
eventually get you labeled as WRONG, and cause world wars over stupid
things such as the color of your skin, your religion, your political
party, what kind of cereal you eat in the morning, Where black garments
are always the dress code for this extended funeral for what we were
once proud to refer to as "life", Where the color you wear automatically
reflects who you are, what path you have chosen to follow in the
intricate crossroads of politics because the one path that would prevent
judging is the path on which you must travel in the nude, which is
completely blocked by “DO NOT ENTER �" RESTRICTED AREA” criss-crossed
tape. Sex is the root of all evil, When your mouth is full of money, it
becomes hard to get all your words out, and sentences like “Your
government was built on lies and cons to acquire all your money” comes
out sounding like “Sex is evil. It is the enemy. It is the antichrist;
you must not tread on that path.” When sex is love, love is sex. This
causes the waves of love that cocoon around us as their last hope to
remind us of what we are supposed to be end up shriveling up and dying
while the little green presidents (who are secretly the real
antichrists) grow red fiery horn and laugh at the fact that hate has
finally conquered love. Sex is love, and love is repressed, Where the
individuals who catch a glimpse of the light of a child’s laughter (when
the “CENSORED” banners create tiny openings due to a gust of wind
called hope that can be peeked through like keyholes) attempt anything
to go back to the outside world. Outside the world outside the glass
box. And these individuals go to hotels, Once these individuals arrive
at the hotels, the hotel manager kindly asks them “would you like to
store any of your valuables in the safe during your stay? And these
individuals would reply “Valuables? How can you put love, joy and
happiness into a box so that I may store them in your safe?” When
individuals free themselves from material possessions and consider their
emotions as the most valuable things to them, they are dignified to
apply for the job of planting the new seeds for a new society. A utopia.
One that is not made entirely out of money, When societies are built
with money, you must consider that fact that money is nothing but paper,
and consequently your whole town would get blown away by the slightest
breath of wind and become completely destroyed, Where people get to the
point of using harmfully addictive substances to have a moment of
artificial happiness because it has been so long that they have
forgotten how to get there, the directions were once written on a paper,
but this paper was recycled and a 20 dollar bill was printed on it.
Happiness is NOT spelled with vertical strokes through the “S”s.
Happiness not Happine$$, Where all this happens is where we reside. We
might all be living inside this glass box for now, but our morals, ideas
of civilization, priorities and our humanity is different than yours,
because we are the ones who are able to crawl out of this glass prison
by breaking it with our fists, and creating multiple scars all over our
arms as a presentation of how much pain and suffering is needed to
return back to what you were intended to do. These scars must be show to
the rest of the world, the rest who are still walking around and
looking at the world through a 100 dollar bill, When you look at the
world through the 2 holes that were cut into a 100 dollar bill, your
perspective changes, and your vision translates an image to the number
or dollars it is worth, and since our humanity and our emotions are not
physical objects, their value is non-existent. The Dollar-bill-glasses
throw them away, regardless of the fact that their mind, their
conscience and their heart tries to tell them what is the right way to
do things. Throwing away emotions just because you can’t exchange them
for store credit is NOT the right thing to do, Money can’t buy
happiness, that is a fact. Even if one was able to save up every cent
ever created by every single civilization since the beginning of time
until our last seconds before judgment day, you still would not be able
to buy a smile to put on this child’s face. This child is in heaven, You
cannot put a smile on this child’s face, he is being rejected from
heaven and being sent to eternal agony and pain in hell because he
followed in the green paper road his family laid out for him and told
him that he had no option, that this was the only way to life. His
family were of course, Dollar-bill-glasses people. Those who seek utopia
will always be there, on the other side of the glass box helping the
lost ones in the dark find their way out, open their eyes and allow
their pupils to adjust to the “true” light of the world. The light of a
new world. The light of utopia. Utopia is infinity, Utopia is vast and
endless, Utopia has place for every single human emotion, regardless of
how important or non-important it is. Utopia, in a society, would be the
real cure for everyone’s sickness, everyone’s problems, because even if
there is an overload of emotions, it can be taken care of. Emotions,
unlike money, can be swallowed and kept fresh for another day. Those who
dwell within the confined glass box of limited length, width and height
are too busy counting their money that they don’t notice how fast the
tide of money was rising inside the box. How quickly they would drown.
Killing themselves for a meaningless and insignificant box full of
little green pieces of papers. In the glass box, the ones who walk in
the dark believe the scientific symbol for the oxygen we breathe is $2.
They struggle for their last breaths of fresh air before they are
crushed to death by all the money they had cherished and loving. In
return for love, the money gave the inhabitants of the box asphyxiation.
Once the ones who live in the box finally lifted their heads out of
their balance books, they noticed that we, the inhabitants of utopia had
worked very hard to completely remove each and every “CENSORED” banner
that surrounded their home. Now, they had the sight. Once they saw the
world outside, their eyes filled with desire. As outsiders, we can only
show them the door. We cannot walk them through it. As the inhabitants
of the box realize that the door all the way at the bottom of the box
was way too far to reach in time AND survive, they decided to use their
last minutes of life to watch utopia, a teaser trailer of what their
lives would have been like if they reached perfection.   Their eyes
directed towards a group of children, running around and laughing so
hard that tears of joy escaped their eyes. Where do Dollar-bill-glasses
go when they die? Financial Heaven, a place where the clouds are made of
bills. The bills rip easily. They plunge downwards to the actual final
destination of the path they had chosen. Financial heaven was not it.
Most of the Dollar-bill-glasses had been lied to about the final
destination of their path, lied to, was omitted, a half-truth-ed by
their leaders in whom they trusted so much in. Hell. Money is paper,
paper burns. As a man in the box had his last seconds of life, he took
off his dollar bill glasses and quietly said to himself: “ I would give
up all this money for 10 minutes of playing with those kids. Now that I
know that my most valuable possession is my memory, and my memories of
my childhood are gone. If only my eyes had been opened sooner, I could
have created more memories.