A misstep of race started climbing onto the social ladder of fabric,
satin to feel, silk to see but it was cocooned and tied to the jungle.
All perceived them free, wild, unbothered yet the concrete deemed them bound targets of fabric.
A drape of mempo is then veiled as wings in senses, on tendrils even under levers...
Layering their identities under a single name of chained reactions.
Morphing them into a threading of wings,
never to feel the breeze once.
To a breeze’s expense where flight was possible, just not the carcass of contours—
such a blueprint of remiges emerged, building:
A jungle of buildings,
A jungle of guises,
A jungle of identities,
And
A jungle of forgery remained, built on a foundation of remains, forged-branded under a surname a collectiveness—
'you'
