The teacher stands before her detained class
And from behind her authoritative podium
She equates abortion to the holocaust
A dangerous comparison in an educational garrison
But the other children nodded their heads in agreement
A benefit of having the ear of youth
Is being able to infect it with your own toxic ideology
What bacteria did this ear infection consist of?
Conservatism? Religiosity? Chastity?
The answer was depressingly simple
I was the only one there unaware of Fox News
I was a casualty of the confusion
The confusion engendered
By venom thoughts placing politic-colored glasses
on the entrenched masses
Entertainment
Used to convey anger and hate
Emotions worth conveying
But not living in
The intents and desires of their vulnerable receivers
become an incongruous disaster

What could I have done?
Minds as still as the pharaohs heart
We live in a society where we're all infantilized by one myth
Good and evil
Looking back on what I did do
I didn't do much
But I did do something
I didn't nod my head like a ******* sycophant

Everyone's out to outdo everyone else
It's not even about meaning anymore
It's how much press coverage it gets
Whoever makes them "just" statistics
And there's no fantasy draft yet

Somewhere alone in his dark place
Ruminating his environment
Some bedwetting, fire starting, animal abuser
Infantilized by the hatred of maternal instincts
Projected on him
De-evolved

He likes the way she hurts him
She abuses open hand words
or clenched up fists of embarrassment
It just fuels his homicidal tendencies
His brains on the hate frequency
And he's ready to let the fantasy slip

Home is where the heartless host
absence of emotional ghosts
the boy
the man
the monster

He lost it

Family annihilator,
He took his mother out last
So she'd suffer through
the destruction of the *******
Her wasted wish
of abortion'd children.

This was before the news vans
This was before the first respondents
This was before the society outlash

Back to him alone in a dark place
In the depths of his disturbing mind
He sets higher stakes.

Capitalists capitalize
markets become factions
purchasing power negated
by marketing power
attention betrays humility
the town crier speaks agreeable rhetoric
would you like to read more for 99₵?
man drops change reaching in his pocket
his eyes scan the paper without reading
he skips the climate content—
he just wants to know the weather
coins collected by the crier are tossed in wishing wells
money shimmers in the shallow waters.

Envying elevation
neon arrows direct us toward saccharine sonnets
the seating is comfortable—the costumes are immaculate
curtains raise revealing Vaudeville starlets
the audience sits and claps
dying in the silence between laughs.

The market speaks in tongues
its invisible hand strangles culture
PG rules programming for product generating
companies like Procter & Gamble to advertise,
The proctor sets strict rules to lessen the gamble.
Grief spreads through infantilized thoughts
like toxic waste dispersing through the tributaries of a drying river
the fish are dying—their offspring are mutants
ageless wonders that never see the shore.

You grind off my fingerprints
To remove my identity
Putting your finger to my lips
The silence will better me
You're a predatory anemone
That can look ahead of me
Sensing the dread in me
Slicing me splendidly
Despite my defended pleas
You ruthlessly rend me
To bring about an ending
To that ring you were lending
So our lives will stop blending

You break my heart
Then sow it back together
You stop and start
Leading me on forever
As I fall into darkness
Only seeing your face
Is this just a dark test?
Or is this a futile race?
I move like a shark rests
When you can't be replaced

I am paralyzed
By your hazel eyes
Catching the gaze of mine
Through a maze of lies
And my ways of crime
Are infantilized
By your infanticide
Roller coaster ride
Of which I must abide
Because this lust of mine
Convinces me rust is fine
And to ignore passing time

You make me want to live
You make me want to die
I have everything to give
Instead I reluctantly fly
Through the dark clouds looming
Formed after you cut through me
With the acuteness of your beauty
And the bullets you were shooting
That I attempted to dodge
And denied their existence
I want you to live in my lodge
Yet I always meet resistance

We looked at the world through rose-colored glasses,
sped through the night under blue moons,
parked in cars and gave boys the green light.

Explored gray areas, dreamed of golden boys,
painted the town red and got caught red-handed.

We saw adult freedoms and were green with envy,
we experienced blackouts (I’m talkin’ to you 151 ***),
swam in black water alone and talked to strangers,
told little white lies, yet somehow, we didn’t die young.

I think of college students as dyed-in-the-wool adults.
The grass always looked greener on the adult side,
and we’re tickled pink not to be infantilized any more.

We’ll show the world our true colors  
and pass college with flying colors.
Life won't be handed to us on silver platters,
we’ll get white collar jobs.

Of course, as adults, we’ll have to deal with red tape,
and we can’t be yellow-bellied or try to whitewash things.
We’ll stay out of the red or sing the blues.
We’ll stay off the yellow lines, seek golden opportunities,
attend black tie events, obey the golden rule, avoid pink slips,
support our men in blue and look for silver linings.

Adulthood sounds exhausting.
On the positive side, I’m told adults practice safe ***.  
Practice means what it’s always meant - right?
Is that why adults go to bed so early?
Besides, as adults, we won’t be kept in the dark anymore,
and we’ll get to chase rainbows!

White *****, red spikes,
flight stalled, death blight,
tight walls, bed bites,
night falls, headlights
burn in my brain
I learn from the pain
and my burdensome shame
that this quarantine game
feels horribly same
to life in my lane.

Everyone wears masks
everything is sanitized
I have one simple task
and it’s my ****** demise
while the planet cries
I stand aside
infantilized.

I hide in my holler
counting my dollars
counting on scholars
to make me taller
but for each one that builds me up
there are three to cut me down
so I’ll drink from their cup
and hand them their crown.

If I go outside I’m browbeaten
but I feel boxed in
from the callous crowds’ treatment
pulling my **** skin
promising it’s not spin
until their battlebot wins
then their cattle **** grin
spreads like coronavirus kin.

So I sit here homicidal
inside my domicile
thinking God is vile
for this awful trial
that some call a pandemic
but it seems like my existence
where I look for a grand medic
but only find social distance.