Closed doors

slaves too weak to fight
dying in their chains
electric cuffs around their wrists
objects of profit and entertainment
their image of suffering used
as inventory for auction
in between the air waves
and the pixels of your screen

they are there
and we are here

an image fed through a tube
into the belly of complacency
to be half digested and regurgitated
in the form of chit chat

suffering is now material
profitable stock bid on by
bourgeois couch surfers
entertain me they say

the unaware say
at least it's not me
until it is and then
there is no one but us
no one but our neighbors
our friends and our families

we cannot wait for a friend
that promises protection
and profits from our misfortune
there is no friend in government

open doors