The Institutional Man


Waking up to this new day with no sign of a sun
Only the familiar vibe of structure, aggregate, and painted metallics
Relishing the cozy confines of limited space
And every possession within reach

This is life
This is home

Who dares to be removed from it?
Closed quartered kindred spirits and a family of Free Minds
All at once insulated and liberated from the burden of society

This is leisure
Though there is no peace

All must be counted for the whole to remain secured
So if one must leave
They and the rest will mourn

For the death of simpler things gives spirit to all manner of complexity
Of course, the question becomes
Who would bear the standard in the wake of such a removal?
And what changes many care?

Then, when will the foundation begin to crumble?
Or where would anyone look back to then?

But as well, for now at least…

How is sleep to arrive with all that in mind?

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