There's the ways thing seem,
and the way they are,
and the measure between
is immeasurably far.
You have to lose your mind
to find it, Ginsburg said.
But if you lose your mind
in the factory it was made
don't complain to me,
good intentions paved
me over, but you walk
to the salt machine
like some kind of long lost
son, expecting a fatted calf,
but eyeing the barrel of the gun.
give them nothing
but noncompliance, defiance, and crossed ties,
skepticism, questions, and scoffing galore,
as they tell you she's from Babylon
but she's no whore.
coming for you,
with cleansing love magick,
that will take out the eye of Polyphemus.
sneak out under sheeple
and let you starve
in your Analogy of a Cave.
And you think power
can't be turned on itself?
The slave rows the ship,
and the Earth may really
have a shelf
as you're vomited
from the good Lord's promise,
your ferryman
with the smile of a raven
will take the reins,
and nothing in the hereafter
will ever cleanse the stains.
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