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.