Plastic addiction

It first started when you were a kid
but you didn’t notice it seeping in.
It’s a phase, they say, he’ll get over it
and they turn their gaze onto their own little things.
You remember the first time you held one
the car, the truck, the wheels turning
and something stirring inside of you
gears and cogs, clicking and whirring
something shifting, ever so slightly.
But still, you didn’t notice it seeping in.
How could you, after all?
All it was, all they were, just toys.
Yet something more,
beneath the surface, always
more than meets the eye.
And for a while they became
your fantastic friends, guardians
of plastic memories, unscrewed pains
and loosened joys of coloured limbs.
All that time, it was seeping in.
That was then. Now, at twenty-two,
you dive your hand into
a sea of phases, fading into
an ocean of childhood obsessions
of a kid’s achievement and parents’ despair
in the shapeshifting forms
of cars, trucks and planes.
With care, you choose a fraction
from his collection, it becomes
a subtraction from your brother’s
affection as it joins your faction,
an addition to your own collection.
Although there are millions
in hiding through the world
this one is yours, and yours alone.

But all in all, as in any addiction,
one shall rise and one shall fall.
It’s either you or your plastic creatures.
You notice a change in their plastic features,
they’re begging for more, more comrades,
more plastic, my god it’s fantastic!
Is this what the matrix of leadership feels like?
Do I have the touch? I feel just.. prime!
I want more I need more they need to be mine!
As the frenzy builds up, you scour the net
you bet you can find one to complete the set.
A final addition, you promise yourself,
but in fact, as you look at the shelf
it’s just another token
of your plastic addiction.
Since it started, since the beginning
it’s always been either you
or your plastic creatures.
So far, they’re winning.

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