I pray to the sun god a lot. For warm skin and fresh basil.
You pray to the stars. You pray for the sky like a yawning mouth. You pray for my father. For my sister and the parts of her she keeps hidden. You pray for people who are terrible at hiding, too, who leave themselves open, ripe as peaches. You pray for fall this year, for the harvest, that it will be consummate and yield bushels and bushels.
You pray that you won't forget anything important: keys; your mother's birthday; how to just keep breathing even though you're convinced your heart is shrinking. And you pray that you will live your life loosely, forever outside. You pray for that tightness in your chest to go away and stop bothering you at night, and for a scythe like they used to use for farming.
You pray that God is real. The Sunday school God who loves you and killed off his protagonist so that you might live like a soldier, unsure of what you're fighting for, but fighting nonetheless.
You pray that God is real but you have serious doubts about any creator who allows colorblindness and then makes the world and the sky and girl you love look like this.

you say you're all for change.
     equality
          diversity -
i can question all i want,
     but you'll just repeat it back to me.

you say we're all the same.
     all on a level
          playing field -
the statistics say you're wrong,
     and yet you try to tell me that's not real.

you say it's not our fault;
     it's been "so long"
          since slavery -
and you look at me with mocking eyes,
     while i search for your humility.

and us women won the right to vote
     less than a hundred years ago,
          but you tell me i'm ludicrous
               when i say

                         i wish we would earn as much as men -

               you say "that's the way it's always been"
          and i'm "wasting" my time worrying -
     you say "we'll get married, we'll be fine,"
"we'll be home with our children anyway."

and i shouldn't ask them
     what they earn,
          
               cause then i might know to ask for more

     so i'll sit here wondering in my head
whether you've considered that before.

you say you're all for change.
     equality
          diversity -
those buzz-terms won't mean anything,
     until you practice what you preach.

you say we're all the same.
     all on a level
          playing field -
but colorblindness doesn't solve
     the problems that we're facing here -

you say it's not your fault;
     it's been "so long"
          since slavery -
but you don't seem to understand,
     that no one wants your sympathy.

i know you're not listening anymore -

     that's fine.
          i've gotten used to it -
     but there's some things you need to know
before i let you walk away from this.

"i'm not racist" will never change the
     meaning of what you just said,

          and

your "jokes" will never make me laugh,

          until you build us up,
               not hold us back.

god isn't all back-talk,
but why do we ignore?
again repeated to save
the sleeper;
why not save yourself?
what may come after? and,
now writing by guided
half-light of morning;
purples hues, and
incandescent colorblindness
of a growing dawn.
drop your shoulders,
quit tying knots throughout
your back; how
can the Holy Fire strike
through layers of caked icing?
******* wash it away,
******* dust the flour
from your hair, attempt to
self-(lost the next word)
to remember
you came forth from nothing
to be gifted self-determination.
and realize, even god is cyclical
upon our dimension;
    wane to gain,
   return for praise from yearn.
there's fear, if only
because there's reality.
chills through spine, radiating
outward under skin; this is
melody's echo chamber -
hyperbolic time chamber in metre.

My brain has its own form of colorblindness
Refusing to see anything other than monochromatic shades of black or white
You're either something that i cannot possibly be around another minute
Or i don't want you to leave
It can go from content
To barely controlled anger
In a matter of seconds
But what's worse
Splitting or depersonalizing
How am i supposed to know when i mix them as often as others mix their drinks?
How can my own thought process be just as flawed as my vision?
How am i supposed to tell whether you hate me or not?
How do i think in anything other than extremes?

First things first, what type of ******* are they?
If it's a cane?
Your best bet is to file half way through it,
so when they're walking,
it snaps, and gravity takes it's course.
wheel chairs are more fun.
more expensive as well,
so take some water-
and squirt it into the wheels bearings.
watch them rust,
and beat them in a foot race.
annoying visual disabled people is a bit easier
partially due to the fact that sight isn't their strong suit.
but their hearing is much better.
so be sneaky.  
and put saran wrap face level through a door.
(make sure the ground is carpet or pillowed)
the brain damaged few?
have a bit more variety too them,
and with variety comes creativity.
so get creative and when they mention a color of something,
tell them that that's not what color the thing is.
"look at that cool blue car"
"what're you talking about? that's red??"
you'll never see anyone call a neurologist so quickly.
colorblind or dyslexic is real easy.
look up synonyms for short words and replace them with the longest ones you can find.
text them using this absurd paragraph.
watch the ******* emojis fly.
and colorblind is simply talking to them in type.
in random colors, printing it off, and handing it to them.
(make sure they correlate to the type of colorblindness)
and then make sure to dress in solid conflicting colors.
makeup too for extra evil points.
all the other disabled and crippled?
just put everything slightly out of reach.
works on everyone.
I  promise

battered pinata like

Yours truly courtesy servitude
tethered existence suffers neck
brunt of yoke
fiscal recklessness got me woke
within cosmic schema,
a mere infinitesimal speck.

Insolvent crisis principally bespoke
interestingly enough
caught me off balance
sudden pennilessness
(dollar short/ day late dada)
analogous to vice grip
stranglehold doth choke
coffers emptied
*****-nilly Okey doke
colorblindness
fundamentally governed me

into zombified state
thus another plaintive plea
I repeatedly, lamely, and feebly evoke
meaning remuneration welcomed
courtesy altruistic generosity, magnanimity
and philanthropy humble
anonymous Lake Woebegone folk
ideally Norwegian bachelor farmers
to alleviate fiasco from fiendish
fraudsters frazzled father.

In plain (Schwenksville speak)
broken English,
I fell prey to hustlers
audacious, ferocious, malicious,
voracious, zealous tricksters,
who stealthily found entry
into my Macbook Pro
and locked computer screen
with threatening implication
security of mine private domain
awash with byte size bits
of valuable information
at risk of being tampered
with or obliterated.

Analogous to eminent domain of yore
mine digital terrain
manifest destiny meant war
virtual flesh and blood
regarding these lovely bones
yours truly gussied up
as chargé d'affaires
sent on risky (business) dutiful tour
to inflict comeuppance on him
who rendered me poor
as a Unitarian Church mouse,

plus I recruited
offspring of one of countless
related German Shepherd dogs
featured in fictional stories
on film, radio and television,
who starred as Rin Tin Tin
belonging to elite K9 Korp
receiving unexpected support
courtesy end of gum
(cryptic message for ye
to chew on) sympathizers
voluntarily boosted success
at recouping major financial setback
my morale viz extempore.