Look to that place in between where the lost are reconciled to be confused within their minds by the ignorant wielding knives with wicked edges cutting sharp explanations without thought inflicting wounds that may take a life when the soul is bled dry
not a phase of the heart instead assurance is their own embracing thirst of the years for both the east and the west including states betwixt the points these are the realms found by lust defying wisdom deeply flawed by observers outside the zone
asking gender to be declared by identity or the draw rudeness blooming by disdain then disbelieving the replies attention put to the void where despair may manifest hopefully their prey will rise put aside the hateful blooms
shirking rules that matter not only meant to destroy neither matters when the truth declares the proof found within these are a life for many folks pursing verity of the self seeking truth within the posts embracing life instead of death.
The poem “Shirking Rules” was loosely inspired by a two-panel cartoon. Two children as a skeleton, “are you a girl or a boy?” The skeleton replies, “I’m dead”. This struck a chord in me. Maintaining inner stability can be difficult as the ignorant and mean-spirited world buffets those who exist outside the normative.