I shutter desire,
I quiet fear,
And drag a rusty blade across my skin.
It's about what I let out,
Not what I've taken in.
These sweat and tears,
This blood that drops,
I hope you all soak it up.
Each of you, like ***** mops;
Never getting anything clean,
Just spreading all the muck around
And calling everyone *****.

I like ****** the most
When they're quiet and know their worth.
Them being the only ones
To sell themselves out;
Set the rate yourself.
It'd be a shame
Living on your back
For but paltry wealth.
Small penance too,
For fleeting looks and fading health.
Not a profession with a pension,
Not a career with a penchant for happiness;
But if *******'s your passion
It's shorter lived in-person than on camera.

What peace is spoken of?
What normalcy?
More war? Further widening the gap
Between the rich & the poor?
Another mean-nothing speech,
Full of thoughts and prayers
Never to be carried to term?
Bills brought to the floor
Only to be stalled by their authors?
Flirting with failure
From manufactured crisis, and with
Pointless battles over culture.
Never have the oppressive been more direct
In their inability to lead
Views, values, beliefs;
Scavenging their remains
Akin to common vultures.

Concern of income as status
And popularity as a moral metric
Among peers just as vain.
What is it that fools compete for?
Simpler lives, duller & plain?
Over complicated, gaudy & cliché?
Playing with themselves like
Dogs with their ***** splayed.

I ask you, what is math?
What are equations?
Factored life.
I charge it is living,
Senseless pained observations which we must make
So as to live another day, so as not to perish early
And die before a just time;
The degrees of life are right.
Man must stand *****, stiffen your spine,
But remain relaxed.
Straighten out your ethics, your morals;
Never forget from where you came.
Your ancestors, this planet.
That you are just in another herd.
No really different than any other animal,
Only in our intelligence.
Which is itself, a gift.
So give thanks to mother nature.
She could use it

Birds of a feather,
On an isle of ladders;
Here now, together.
Climb to nowhere,
That just gets ever higher;
One way up, straight and narrow.
Rain pours in,
Maelstrom showers;
Prometheus cowers.
Overhead, stars twinkle;
And at least the view is beautiful

Conflagration,
Conflict & confusion.
Consternation,
What comes, and has been.
Condemnation,
Of fact, and of fiction.
Comatose.
One world, many nations

Dear Mom & Dad,

I won't be coming home quite as soon as once thought. I have found a place where they really like me; a place like no other. Instead of being shunned and despised, like most places, I'm invited to everything:
parties,
picnics,
and parades,
my neighbors even welcome me with open arms. Suffice-to-say, I finally feel like I belong and plan to stay a while in this country.

Your Son,
Covid-19 Coronavirus, III