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Why
should I be
as they
wish me to be ?
they wish ~
that I see
as
their eyes see
but I am, and see
my own shades
of fancy
Must I exist
in their
paradoxical mist
e n g i n e e r e d
for and by
n o r m a l m i s f i t s . ?
Am I
to be normal
in a state
of their defined madness . ?
Can I be . .
without being correct
without being suspect . ?
don’t want
my thoughts inspect
don’t want
my rights circumcised
don’t want my life
cut short
by someone else’s understanding
of my universe
'cause ~
if I had
a blade of grass
for every illness
that ails the minds
of they
who wish themselves
to be Gods
I’d have fields of cattle ~
making
B u l l s h i t . !
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