He was a man with pools for eyes
the rage that darkly tinted them was the chlorine,
never distilled.
Convinced your heart was the same shape
as his,
that the sky is never black, but blue.
Blue like they all say.
Shooting stars looked like lit matches thrown into water
in those gelid eyes.
No wishes to be made here; keep on moving, folks.
The wash of the world in the wave of each fresh sunrise:
to him,
just another day to lose.
And the days did - they folded
and fell inside the others.
They held no divergence.
His acropolis never torn from the earth.
Not hurricanes or tsunamis, not earthquakes
could storm a plight larger than his anger.
Welcome the The Almighty Kingdom.
He the absolute fascist,
the dictatorial leader.
His word like handcuffs
shackling you to every. single. one.
A cape of misery that turns all wondering and curious eyes to grey.
Heart pressed within a room of shrinking walls.
Swallowing hurts, too, sometimes. Most times.
He reigns more stringently today than he did
the day before
and the day before
and the day before.
I’m afraid, scared, terrorized
by what the future here could hold.