Statues, Ice

Do you ever hear voices,
When a fan is spinning
Or a TV is static?

Often the world feels as if it's standing still,
Yet in other breaths it's spinning diagonal,
Tilting off it's axis
While tearing oxygen from our lungs

People talk, being either the complete focus
Of our idealized attention,
Or they're silenced from our hearing
As we daydream of memories, other people, ourselves

Bread or cakes,
Separated into two categories
The worthless, drug stained sidewalks,
The leaders, bleached teeth
Strugglers, survivors, fighters,
Ran over by a shiny black Mercedes

They offer help, a smooth hand to hold,
Yet their smiles are lies,
Masked by other intentions, a belief
That they must be good
But feeling resentment twinge at their chests
As reassurance spews from their mouths

Then there those of us
Who willingly be bad, as we understand
That innocent and corrupt cannot be categorized
And people are not barcodes
Genuinely wishing strangers well,
While looking out for each our own

However, in this world
All are equal,
But some are more equal than others

Unplug the fan
Turn off the screen