My home has been invaded. Not by the usual suspects. Instead, by the ravenous locusts of judgement. Of the "I told you so's" and not good enough's. A territorial plague that infests the very structure of molecules. Never has a room so full felt so empty.
They digest. Devouring the fabric of electron bonds To where the air itself is heavier than water
And my lungs choke, Desperate for smoke. The condescending eyes, The pollution of a space I once called mine. A space once pristine has now Festooned itself in patternous greed Where opinion is paragon before law And the laws once laid Leave a cavitated wake As they lay helpless by the wayside Waiting for a passer-by To claim the unclean deed And draw away what sickens me
The raw and busted hide Plays brave but cracks to the festering wound Of unbridled, wild pride. So strong are those that sit on perceived thrones That even in another's home Basic courtesies are considered contrived.
And the sickness soaks Deep in the bones Of the worn and weary We should all hope to press without due regard