You sit behind your counter
at work, where you spend
most of your conscious moments
“You know something
You’re a part of it
You
Demon”
A satanic panic
Gray matter so easily stimulated
Shocked, provoked, manic,
into pitchforks, torches
Repugnance in scorching crimson
You need this job to live-
Don’t we all?
Participate or die, we are told from birth
So we cooperate under coercion
Alumette cut shreds
of our Self
sliced away
Clock-out comes, today
the drive home is longer
A routine errand peppered with a routine snag
“We can’t hand over the script”
An ouroboros of medicine and calls on hold
between you and the elusive
“Wellness”
We do not have a chosen One
We are all we have
We share an experience, a subservience
Not to a whom, but a what
A different kind of Cancer
This saps our pneuma
Our creative psyche
Indomitable spirit of a human
in a gilded cage
But, the door is left open
Survival is not guaranteed, we are told,
if we pass the yawning threshold
Is this different from the life we live in the cage?
Wading through our own filth,
sitting atop newspaper
We are not guaranteed reward for our obedience
Then, what have we to lose?
Find your love, your people
worth defending
Those who need it
After, we convene, we organize
We make our exit, into a world that has always been
so much more prodigious than ourselves
They delay our liberties
Deny the fruits of perpetual labor
Defend their place at the top of a hierarchy
We must return the favor with deposition, dismissal,
Discharge all Despots
Until all we leave is a world
we aren't remorseful to give
to our children