The Construction of the Clone

The lab-coat egos rule a land where to ‘stand out’ is a sin.

Purge any sense of individualism and you will be accepted with open arms, for these are the pre-apocalyptic headlines.

They shatter your bones, strip away the flesh and pin you to the wall. Eventually a mould of yet another doppelganger – expressionless and apathetic.

Welcome to no man land.

It was never your body to begin with anyway.

They slip it in beneath your rubbery skin and you think to yourself ’I’ve finally come home’.

That’s what they want you to think. You don’t sing the song you learnt when you were five years old. You don’t carry the scar that frames your right eye – a perfect white sliver of smooth scar tissue. You do not recognise the distinctive smell that lingers in the air when Summer makes her beautiful transition to Autumn. Or the sensation of warm water rushing over your skin, the captivating experience of submerging. You don’t dream the dreams of lands, those lands of vivid colour and lights so bright and brilliant. And why would you?

This is no man land and you are now ‘one of them’.

D R Forest 2013 ©