The problem is that
Most of the time I am
Not only
Separated from it all,
Above it;
I am in another realm watching, as if through the
Portal of a dream,
A part of, and yet
Separate from,
Watching a
Scene unfold.
Maybe I am on a cloud, but the cloud sits in a
Magical world,
Evaporating into rain on a rainforest
That no longer even exists in the real world,
Burned down years ago to be turned into
Grazing land for creatures renamed
Cattle,
To slaughter and pound into patties
To send off to fast food franchises
Across the burning, fuming globe,
To turn to rolls of fat,
Fuel and excess to cover
The binge generation,
Until lawsuits are brought forth
To excuse each one’s lack of control,
So that they may be given the currency
To have the proof of over-indulgence sucked out
With a medically sanctioned vacuum cleaner,
Made new again, under
Sagging flesh and
Able to,
Guiltlessly, this time,
Consume
All the world’s resources
In their greedy mouths and
Chubby hands.
You can wonder all you want about
Where I go,
But at least
Now
You don’t have to ask
Why.
