Inside the container of the container
Star struck but claustrophobic
A russian doll opening
Inside the neon sign
The murmur of the crowd
stirring and bathing in the dazzle
Obsessed with the accessory
Catwalk corridors
Inside the hype
Feel real now
Skin and words light up
You are noticed
Now you have meaning
Inside the crowd
Inside the city's stomach
where you fall willingly
You are digested
With a million others
A warm puddle of acid
That turns you into currency
Inside the queue you fidget
Each version of you anxious, impatient
Waiting for their inevitable time
To get their card stamped
Their little quota of validation
Their title dead for a container
The one that gets finally...
Lowered into the ground.
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