dire reflection

and the nothingness swallows you whole.

know

deep inside

within your very innermost being that

you need

corrections,

for all the world outside screams at itself that it needs to be better, faster, quicker,

number &

full of more ways to

profit

profit

profit

before all else.

 

see the image you’re supposed to be

airbrushed on the magazine

bigger breasts

bigger dick

flatter waist

tighter butt

bigger eyes

lusher lips

longer legs

pecks that point

softer skin

bigger bi’s & tri’s

stronger

more energetic

young &

forever thinner

(you can’t be too thin).

 

hear the words you’re supposed to believe

broadcasted on your tv screen,

that your nation is right in every way

that history is on its side

that it acts in your best interest

that you alone are part of the greater process

that your help is needed so that it may flourish

successfully

that without the support of everyone it will

collapse

that the wealth will be spread amongst the

many

that there will be no nuclear annihilation of everything

as long as the big strong

policeman

is

in

charge.

 

suffer the guilt you’re supposed to feel

given from the pulpit like a disease

spread to everyone you know, forcing them to

tremble in the midst of

absolutely no evidence of anything

more than what is right in front of you

staring back

stale &

as real as you wish it wasn’t---

 

but, alas,

it is.