Stifled by a grey wool suit

My rage and my passion

Went to sleep.

Constricted by silent, social constructs

My identity vanished,

And my smile hung on my face

Like a certificate of stupidity.

I flashed my salesworthy ass

To every paying customer.

“Attention all corporate shoppers,

There’s a fluorescent light

special in aisle four.”

Ready to be packaged and sold

A slave to the game,

Or a rat in a race

It’s all the same thing

With a different name.

Anyone can play.

It’s easy to learn.

Just grab your ankles

And never let it show when it hurts;

To watch your spirit die slowly.

The old me

Never seen or heard from again.

(Until Now)

So if you’re gay, don’t tell.

And if you’re a woman you’ve

got more to market

And more to sell.

And if you’re anything other than white,

You better be ready to fight.

Or sell out your heritage

To pass as light-skinned.

But no one knows better

Than the lonely man at the top

Just how much of us may be bought.

It’s just another day on the job

Lookin for another sucker to rob

To ensure each cog

In this great machine gets its grease.

We’ve been recorded and piss-tested,

Insulted and rejected,

Harassed and molested,

By old white men who couldn’t do the work

If they tried.

If you’re not a clone you’re stigmatized.

God forbid, “I apologize sir,

For having an opinion.

My job is my life, love AND religion.”

Until the day you fire me,

Wearing that same fake smile

You wore when you hired me.

The same day you gave me

This damn grey suit.

You can have it back

You wrinkled, lying, coke-addicted hack.

Put it on someone who doesn’t mind

Having their pockets lined

With your green-backed version of morality,

And stuffed-shirt, horse-shit formalities.

Because this ass is too expensive for you

Unless, of course, this time

You think you can afford the truth.