it’s not easy for them either.
yes, they dress nicely,
sip their coffee slower,
and create music we
can’t hear; but, there’s
something else
isn’t there?
it’s the itch to walk deliberately
into the blaze
to dive head-first into the brutality
or answer the door naked
to be unjustly mean or
to go to bed with
a stranger
to pretend to be him or her
or them
or anything
or nobody
it’s the common hunger for truth
and the failure to speak it.
the appeal of leaving it all
behind
it’s the impulse to hate what
you don’t understand
and the masking of your
hatred with kindness
to run away from the
sham of nirvana into a
blade or barrel
or irate sea
to become individually lost in
a mass of mutual human
suffering
