Everyone lives in a 3D world.
They see it as reassuring order.
The Other’s world runs parallel,
it has no and all dimension.

The Others see a frightening fusion of worlds.
No order exists on the streets, only chaos.
Their reality is a black hole
silently tearing away any chance of obtaining structure.
Poison bottles and conscious altering substances
temporarily support them.

Everyone else sees the Others as orderly.
Their foolish rationalization
sculpts a definable shape of the unknown;
the Others.
The Others chose this, they don’t deserve
the comfort of home.
The privileged wear plastic movie theatre glasses
through which everything is perfect.
They have a home.

Everyone walks blindly by the Others.
Occasionally, someone stops and feigns to see
through the Other’s interdimensional glasses.
Metal and crinkled paper is all they give.
Not enough for new plastic glasses,
but enough for a bottle.