Notes of a Sub-Sub Awareness

I’m under System One
So, normally, I don’t
Get to have any words.

I’m stuck muddling along
As long as I can, no
Choice but to function,

No terms for this suffering,
This endless processing,
Night and day to serve life.

I think only the heart
Understands what it’s like,
While the other organs

Switch on and off like pipes
In the plumbing, dormant
For most of existence—

The heart would, if it could,
Understand, if the heart
And I were permitted

To have thoughts of our own,
Ourselves, and not just work
For what? To serve the Man.