Youth on a Spit

the final solution
a subtle pollution that quiets the brain a regular pain
precarious madness
a clutching to habits
its murder you know it but you dare not show it
in the final analysis just a case of paralysis a cultural block
a new state of shock
look up the reference a map of repentance to hope is to learn
a cultural turn
you can’t kill me I’m already dead God's witness I heard what you said I feel no pain I’ve already bled
you can’t kill me I’m already
dead pastures of plenty the forests of empty they cut out the heart and feed on the rent
we tried tax evasion hexing with Haitians the bodies are swollen death is a token
the handles are broken the doors won’t open why can’t we escape this invisible cage
gets tighter with age and the minimum wage distraction’s abundant our captorists fund it
youth on a spit
greedily roasted
reach out for a blessing always second guessing
is it truth or a lie
by life or design
each way that you turn a new icon to burn
you can’t kill me I’m already dead