My feet are bare and torn as intended
My eyes are wide and watching
Keeping tabs on those with strings
Their eyes are glazed with smiles tapered low
Cultures and words, binding
Together and dividing
Illusions of connection, autonomous disavowal
A curtain and a shade, a childish masquerade
Not happy, but content
Not free, but privileged
Not human, civil
But I am the animal
I am the woolen, bleeding, filthy
I am two-armed and two-legged and I kill with my hands
I've eaten from the tree that has no name
And I'm not one to make up words
Make up excuses, make up lives
I breathe and sleep, I eat I drink
There is no me, only shuffling sounds of feet on leaves
Oxygen and carbon monoxide that will one day cease to emit
And the ground that will eat away at the energy inside me
No comments:
Post a Comment