Born in the middle
This isn’t about a race.
This isn’t about space in between the lines of culture and design.
Born in the middle means that I was born enlightened by and in between the lines of good and evil, dark and light, shade at night, bizarre and bright.
This is about being given up and taken in to that which claims to have birthed you, and agreeing to be independent yet in relation to the authorities that place titles on my name, and claiming rights by my fame. I am in between the round spheres of platform and flat walls that reflect my infinite with the label “isn’t you” with three questions underneath to steer toward agreeance of such idea. Born in the middle means holding hands with what helps you and what hurts you just to prove that you can tell the difference, to see who we agree with more in times of rising and falling, and by midnight, do you remember your place in between the rights and the lefts, gaze at the rest and reach in far to pull oneself into the calling on of times of tomorrow, and waves of suggested scripting that pushes and propels each away from left to right to forth and I am in between my best self in both versions and I feel the pressure sometimes, of being better or being best, being dark or being gray, being light or being shade.
Fake one on lock love blank one on top love, take up a mirror and clear the lens of sight to see what may steer you from left and to right. Being lively of dullness and comfortable in tinted vision was fine then, but hinders long while. I don’t know you if you’re only one side of yourself. You don’t know you if you only see from half of your light. A spark is from darkness darling, and pretending like you were not made from pressure of opposites is wondering, forgetfulness and failure.