Dreamt of Akkadia

The person given the name Justin
Subjectively at birth is not here right now
But someone speaks for him
Or, more to the point,
Through him.

Swept up in a southwesterly wind
Like a plague of locusts I fly
The man with a hundred names I dive
Through the pores of your skin
But don't let me in.

Some are driven over and over
To stare me in the eyes, in the mirror
Hanging on the bathroom wall
Or to let me crawl over them
When they are sleeping.

These robes hold a hundred faces
And not one of them is true
I Am the truth, made brick after brick
Of lies, I wear disguises to hide
This fact from you.

Don't go looking in the dark places
Don't start tempting fate
When you've seen the best and brightest
Fall and be taken
Don't let your mind so easily break.