A clique as close as constipated feces in the large intestine. The herd screaming ‘one of us’. Frolicking within a slow murder of my soul, these outsiders pour their screams and fake flowers into me. Whatever was left inside, the contents of my soul ain’t content.

An airborne virus spreading through mediocre poetry. Words tainted by a vile nepotism. The virus enters the brain and blows that shit up — gassing you up without checking the gas price.

Exponential growth — the virions causes lyses of the cells until the only thing left are the screams of “one of us”. Assimilation by chants we become Things. Things in the Antarctic chanting ‘one of us’.

But let’s understand one thing — you can call me Kurt Russell with the flamethrower, burning you all like Chlamydia. Or better yet, y’all can be Alexander and I’ll be Diogenes.

A little history of Greek philosophy — when Alexander met with Diogenes he proclaimed that if he could be another person, he would be Diogenes. Diogenes replied that if he could be anyone, he would only be himself.

One of us? No, one of me!

Product of the projects. Local socio-political urban philosophy.