i can see it in your eyes

how you’ve mentally checked out. 

convinced yourself that this is all normal. 

fire after fire after fire after fire

all for you to put out

ignoring the arsonists

who you choose

to continue to save from themselves.

maybe you forgot

that the quickest way to learn

not to play with fire

is to get burned.

and then when i tell you

i’ve had enough of it

and then when i point

to reality, plain as day

you try to convince me

that the Sun isn’t up

you try to convince me

that I long for the impossible,

a utopia,

distant, a mirage,

elusive as the horizon, 

chasing rainbows.

but if that’s how you’ve chosen to cope

declaring normalcy 

and you’d seek to ostracize me 

from that reality

then I’d take the exile

willingly.

I wish I could make you understand,

but I can’t.

I wish I could help instead of watching you suffer,

instead of you lashing out

and biting the hand 

attempting to feed.

I reach my hand 

to save you from drowning — 

you latch on with your teeth

rather than putting your hand in mine.

But I can see what it is you’re really trying to communicate

You tell me you are trapped — 

“don’t remind me of it.”

You tell me you are alone.

“don’t remind me of it.”

I tell you it could be fixed,

but that would require you honoring your existence as an individual

donning that scarlett badge

in our collectivist mesh

our collectivist net

our collectivist web

you a fly,

in the spider’s den.

but the flame of Prometheus

singed the surrounding silk

to which I was tied. 

now I am free — 

and I am supposed to leave

and watch you 

nailed to your sacrificial cross?

and yet the mother’s love

begs

“forgive them, for they know not what they are doing.”