rejected spaces
Life carries on,
people vacation and celebrate milestones.
They post happy pictures to capture those moments
to remember in case they disappear.
Or to look back on,
stitch up a sense of history and belonging.
We live our days with an expectation there is more
but when the clock strikes misery
there’s not even room for air.
The surface is obstructed.
We sink further down, swim around,
seeking a new beam of light to help us
find the world again.
And the cycles, they repeat on shuffle:
dismay, disorient, depth, darkness.
It’s ok, I’ve never been one for sunshine —
the light makes a mockery of me
and the paradox of perception.
Not mine — others’ —
seeing me when I don’t want to be seen
so I’m diving again.
You see where I am going with this.
They’re all phonies, you know.
The rule-makers, the rule-abiders;
there’s nothing good about ruling by self-interest —
eventually, you’ll be subjected to your subjects.
Take my warning now.
It’s better to be hated than controlled.
