We Are Drowning, How Should We Kill Our Time?

35

 I grew up inside picket fences in large houses with floors that didn't touch the ground I never looked at the ground only my own lines my own paths ahead worrying so profusely about so little I did not even realize the life I worried so heavily about was lived was built on the backs of others we forget are told to forget and plant grass on it and live in perfectly maintained lawns don't dig too deep don't think all the way through turn around at the edge of thoughts pacified by fun songs flipping through the radio channels hearing advertisements spoken so loudly for things no one needs speaking so loudly louder than so many voices who would scream if we would hear them but we don't we turn off unpleasantness and listen to what's easy to listen to instead we always choose easy over right always choosing easy and screams become ash so used to being unlistened to we don't listen we don't dig too deep because if you dig too deep blood springs out in wells through the polished lawns blood drips on hands we build our cardboard lives with; a drop of questioning becomes a flood takes me over this whole city all the monuments I revered the histories I learned lined in hypocritical gold the trinkets the souvenirs of such a wrong life all around me in window panes screaming things to buy to silence this ache this throbbing question because the soul understands the things we are told not to the soul is tied to those we don't listen to we can't sleep at night we take a sleeping pill the flood takes me over on this warm afternoon I want to tear off the floorboards and help the flood take it all over let this city collapse in on itself so we can all sit on equal ground, stilts torn off feet, look each other in the eyes, just look each other in the eyes, but we are taught lines and we are taught blinders and we are taught to look in mirrors and to look ahead not beside not behind not below