Saturday, January 30, 2021

The Butcher of Hyde Park ~ Saturday, January 30, 2021

Social media warps my mind. I think
of all my friends and followers, yet know
crossing the street, I know next to no one
in my own neighborhood. Red roses stink
after a week, left in putrid water;
light and hope, fresh air and clean water show

murderers, care is equal to the sun,
equal to balance the darkness with light;
death is inevitable. His daughter
insists to kill the monster in the cave,
a man, half-bull, half-boy, kept in the dark;

what kind of people are humans? We rave
as lunatics while we watch the dogs bark,
reality, a shouting match, a fight
pretending we need to be heard. Our lives
slip away as memories to review.

Maybe if I repost the past ... it's gone;
yet, I no longer feel the set of knives,

muscle from bone to carve away the lean,
indubitably, the fat becomes glue,
nothing but horses to adhere the pawn,
demented with anxiety and fear.

I'm no longer myself... I've become mean,

thoughtless for the needs of others, to care
however selfish a crab I've become,
insistent on my needs, I cannot share
nothing with anyone. I've become dumb,
kiss the world goodbye... I can't shed a tear.

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