What Do You Do? Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

What do you do?
which translates to;
How do you make your money?
Money is a drug.
We are a drug culture.
Why do you?
which suggests that you
are acting incorrectly
if you act to be free.
We are conditioned for
self-denial.
No matter what you do.
No matter what you think.
Mindless bands of steel
will circle your mentality.
The only way to act
is to learn not to react.
We are surrounded by
plastic scenes that are
as relevant as death.
Blamed if we do not
blindly love the machine
like drone of our lives.
We have lost the right
to determine our own
methods of existing.
What do you do?
which hints at the
premise that your
occupation defines
all the goodness
that is inside of you.
We've slipped back into
the stone age.
Mindlessly hunting wild
animals in a pursuit of
something we can never
define.
Reversing the process of
independence; replacing
freedom of expression with
conformity and status quo.

I see a box.
This box is for I.D.
Place my pieces of paper
inside of it.
In doing so, I have
declared my
non-existence.

What do you do?
As much as I can to be free.