Sober

I wish a green light could sweep me up.
I’m 16 and still sober,
Still making small plays, living in my miniature world...
There’s a constancy that surrounds me,
A tiny being that compounds me, as I drink my fill.
I sense my fantasy lies in waking dreams,
But I’m still sober.
I feel my opportunities over...

Will I forever sit here dreaming a dream bigger than myself?
Something built up before my birth, a God built out of humanity’s lust for earth.
That God’s mind enthrals me; layered, concocting, fixing...
Allotting lies the masses have been fed since infanthood,
To the cold hard minority,
Fixed in the super-realities of the working class...
Our hyphened lives... Dashing, sobered, and incomplete;
Slaves to emancipation’s one clear feat...
The Elite,
Superstardom’s harsh reality is that I will never be who I am, out there.
Sober up...