I'm sitting in my recliner of eased leather, eyes half shut, I think the TV is sputtering in the darkness, inside the perfect cage of my upper class home in my upper class neighborhood far from the madding crowd, the world safely filtered to the narrowest of my tunnel vision; untouchable; flames surround me but I feel no peasant's heat...
If they could see my face now: frowning in bitterest rage, disavowing the universe; volcanic rumblings simmer within, unstoppable when the time comes; what sort of beast is so unbecoming; I feel large chunks of me solidifying into hard blocks unable to move, dangerous; I rot by the seconds, a downhill slow motion slide into the cesspool where no one lives clean...
I know why the TV shooting people kill: they can't fund their rot; I'd explode too if they stuck me stranded in the middle of that shit despised as the real world, who can suffer that bleeding long, not sure how far I'd go to protect my holy perch of insulated isolation; if someone made me justify my position...
Worship the dead dollar and call it God, that's the way of the world with its currency of righteous death, suited pigs strutting among toiling masses who beg for enslavement so they'll always have someone to blame, from top to bottom bound by chains of anger at This Thing Of Ours, insisting without believing there's no other way...
Of nothing that I see can I speak, this mist must remain solely in my mind, the lies cutting me in screaming pleas of frustrated fury as history writes our doomed desires onto burning singed paper; giggling idiots dream they've gone unpunished free yet the nightmare unseals before their eyes as the voiceless fate they handed to others inescapably succumbs their own...
What happens when the money runs out as it must mired in dire certitude? Do I join the army of angry arsonists scorching the planet in hellbent conviction that stamps out the middling outrage of the momentarily spared? Sometimes I cat cry but tears turn to acid scarring my face making me more hideous by the day, driving me deeper into my hole...
frozen vegetating on my recliner, waiting... wondering... wailing....
No comments:
Post a Comment