I am a prisoner
in the Book of They.
Bound in knots –
a bubbling stew of thoughts;
vanities; insanities; calamities.
All day, hi-def, in
the faceless Book of They.
Weaned on coded drugs that make us bray. Non-stop, unglued, an echo-chamber of moods. Self-righteous speeches by star-bellied Sneetches. Harsh lights, cock fights, in the faceless Book of They.
Where went – and how? – those dancing days of May? We disguised and weaponized freedom of speech to injure, to monger, to honor untruths. 3D, fact-free, in the faceless Book of They.
What if – just think! – They went their merry way? Just Us, face to face, no longer debased, Could we – can we? – close the faceless Book of They?
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