The Disjointed

Americana Injustica

I shake awake in the  night;

Hate burning white through sleeping eyes…

I can’t take away all the pain,

The consuming blame –

Read me, see me: the smiling face of shame…

I can’t paint the picture right…

My colors fade,

Strokes don’t catch the light.

What’s my name?

I exist inside the stampede of the sheep

How am I such an indistinguishable beast?

As it turns out, I’m the same as the rest

My heart still beats right here in my chest;

Just not the same as before, I guess.

In reality – there’s open space;

Gulping up the Human race, insatiably feeding…

Not once disbelieving.

And then there’s me, unsure where or who to be;

Unclear on how to think, can’t find the rest of me.

I’m alive and not living – cut off by constraints

ratcheted tightly round my limbs,

Tucked cleverly away beneath

Any surface that…

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