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