Bend Over Because The Weather’s Clearing

Keys to castles tossed in the dirt

making you bend over to dig for their illusions,

all they ever see is a zombie,

a hunk of flesh to be treated as jerky

waiting for summer days of their greed’s sunlight

so you can be left to dry out and die

never being treated as more than a mannequin.

 

Somebody only deserving of wearing a sign

saying in placating cryptic descriptions,

here is a heart that has no sound worth hearing,

a life best stuffed into a file

marked for consumption and not identity.

 

Tired of encountering the eyes that see only clones

who decide what you are going to say

before you utter a word,

giving you maps to chances for standing in line,

calling it happiness when they mean a slaughterhouse.

 

Somewhere there is an exit from this madhouse

where lunatics don’t control every address

with their cold and callous plots and prejudice.

 

I want the ticket they never sell,

that passport to those addresses

you get a chance to do more than drink embalming fluid,

to a life riding a whirlwind and inducing screams of joy

instead of boredom over being a corpse

they already buried in their heads.

 

Let me have my trip to that maze filled with stars

nobody ever dares to visit

because they only want to live in a playhouse

filled with toys that everyone owns,

but I want to breath where it means I feel alive

not this sequel to mediocrity

some say is paradise.