i see flaws, everywhere:
the skewed clock on the plastered wall;
the faces flashing past the curtain call;
the faithless creed of heathens, and sleazeballs;
the smiles that hide the symptoms of withdrawal;
i feel a claw at my throat:
a sliver of smoke swivels up my chest -
shapes a shackle around my neck;
i lay here, trapped - neither coping, nor hoping;
i wonder - is that why they call it chain smoking?
i see laws bent out of shape:
the policemen advantaging off exposed women;
the two-faced lawyers in courts, who summon -
the men questioned of their dignity, and religion;
the reporters come drooling, for a big fat commission.
i seek help:
the therapists diagnose me for a cerebral disorder;
they fail to put their words in the right order -
to put me at ease in the right frame of mind, so -
i accept my flaws under a contract, signed.
