Kept within our demographics,
God forbid we break the mold —
Happiness a mere statistic,
More a median than a goal.

Counting bullets from the trenches,
Willing the world to sleep —
Silent night, holy night,
Stars above, grant us peace.

A thousand times rewritten;
Yuletide,
Winter solstice
Christmas,
Festival of light.
Yet, the sentiment remains —
Comfort in darkness,
Regardless beneath which
Politics, religion, ideology
It hides.

Chaos born,
What is change, truly?
We thought the world
An unfair place —
Of privilege,
Of prejudice.
Little did we show.

White pills changing color,
Switching voices for the pain,
Never altering its loudness —
Transposed, remixed, orchestrated,
Yet, my body screams
The same.

Religion?
Heating prefab dinners
In otherwise unused kitchens.
It feeds, sure.
But a meal
Should be so much more.

Hot and cold
Pain incandescent,
Sharp and dulling
Signals blinding —
Binding, begging,
Leaving me incapable
To act.

The art of
Suggestion,
Persuasion,
Control —
Do as you like,
So long it’s within
The confines
Of what you've been told.

It's not that I
Have anything to hide,
Am too shy,
Or do not appreciate
The abundance of natural light —
Glass houses simply offer
Too little storage
To contain a life.

Iconized timelines,
Heroes, villains,
Saints, demons,
Martyrs, sinners —
But, mind you,
Dark or light,
From any shade,
Just the winners.
History as chosen by those
Who pick the victors.

I used to know what it's like
To live in pain,
But for a while, somehow, blissfully,
I forgot.
And now that it's returned,
More than wishing it would stop,
I mostly fear it works the same
With happiness.

Twisting truth to match the lie,
Fallen angels, demonized —
Even we, praised today,
Might tomorrow find ourselves
Forsaken.
Hashtag flavour of the day,
And then they came
For me.

Words of love
Ricochet —
Some dreams
Ain't meant to be,
Some hearts
Cannot be reached.

Paint me thoughts
And sing me hopes
For what you feel
A life should be.
Share with me
You world beholden —
I will listen,
I will hear you,
And never dictate sanity.

Fear of death,
Fear of debt.
Damnation here
Or ever after,
It’s trivial —
Enslave the populous,
Control through fear.

A change of scenery,
That's all —
We're still waiting,
Though the dream
Has left the station.

The biggest lie
Ever told
Is not the liar's,
But our own —
We willing fools,
Indulging in
A choice, presumed.

It's hard
To see beyond the grind,
But don't mistake routine
For purpose.

Emergency
Cried the boy,
Although it was
Just a wolf.

The thing about creative efforts?
Not everyone will get it.
Accept that fact, and carry on
Whenever some ass or other
Loudly proclaims their ignorance,
Trying to pin that on you.