Stress is flesh torn from life
Instincts resisted
The human condition
Painted in a distorted form

The patients running the asylum
Tears streak like tiny lines of lightening
And all this keeps biting me

Hate and all the strings that follow
All those demons we swallow
One more bitter word linking to the next

It’s not the jokes or the language that hurts
It’s the blatant acts of sanctioned crap
Fairytales that give them license
To vent their frustration
And I am losing my patience

My chest is hurting
And I’m losing my delusions
Because I used to think that
People will get better

My fault I guess
I picked the noose
I slipped it around my neck
I wrote the hope
That stretched my rope
And watched it crumble
Like a brown dried out leaf

I want to believe
Not in invisible men
But in people being good
So far I can’t
Without another cup of coffee