I’m tired of

            Ambivalent masses

Storing their sin theories

Where I can’t reach

            Who leave deplorable assets

Artifacts numb to anticipation

Preserved by refrigeration

Flesh bodies

Full of sounds and       pink

I want to talk about skin

And pain

And Grass breaking

Under

Breaking

Solidarity

But just for a minute, or they’ll stitch you up with

Words someone

Wise and simple said

Provoking harmless herds to

Join hands and sing

Outdated Beatles songs

            Still, I don’t regret killing the president

Or the corporation that makes my rich relatives

Even more so

            In that regard

And straying from the Democratic vote

I           find             myself

Upper

Middle

And

Torn