You scream
"NORMAL!, NORMAL!"
Drunk on ego.

You dream in whiteness
And self-pleasure to
Freud's mother.

Nimble sausage digits
Scribble words
That become homelessness.

You pathologise honesty
Diagnose innocence
And reduce real intelligence
To page number 245.

You call us children
While talking from yours,
Soiled and terrified.  

Little boy be gone.
You have made your mark.
A skid mark, a mark nonetheless.