Inside our outer circle a single
act, regurgitates justice: stealing, no,
sealing away approximations of
clarity as perspectives grow, callousing,
until entirely entrenched in abbreviated arrogance
over a verdict of unanimity.
Slowly stealing their second chance,
empty promises soon become
as material as the rain.
I declare a prohibition, to
ban the way we contest change,
dry up currently whetted appetites
that hunger for war, conflicting,
pedestrian ideas and ideals
promoting each other’s assumed lesser.
Backlash burns silently
smoldering, tears blind those
already living without sight, mixing
tears mix with the heat of untouched friction of words
rubbing-together, concocting a chemical cleanse
aggravating all the senses.
Society has forced fed me,
the general rules and regulations that
culture our daily lives, consequently
as I grew older I felt afflicted; sick,
succumbing to the sour words that
stick in the back of my mind as they
slowly slide down my throat and into my vocabulary
defining unitarily what and who I am, but wait.
I regurgitate, vomiting up defenses and
reasons for my being me and
pleading the case of a natural cause
for this inhumane murder of right vs. wrong
to the judge evidenced by
passing glances, second looks, and intolerant words.
To no avail, I am given life in prison by being found,
But my reprieve is my aversion to
the negativity on society’s spoon,
my lactose intolerance renders me unable to
see, smell, hear, taste, or touch, and not react. For I,
I spit out logic, turning societal mush into
a delicacy that warms the body and soul
to help people helping me cope.