Chop
How I begin,
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How I began this story was to tell a whole truth
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....tell a false truth
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a false half truth, but the whole truth in a sense
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.....truth in a sense is what you made of it, but I'm certain of my stance
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I have no idea what my stance is
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I naively bask in the consequences of my action though they do not fully have evidenced outcomes
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My existence is futile...
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My life is forfeit....
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My life is my own and exists for as long as chance and happenstance let it be
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......as long as I'm secure in hiding out like hermit in my house
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....as long as I'm secure in slinking back when fights become imminent
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fighting is a false flag operation...
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fighting is politics of personal finance....
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fighting is the politics of personal compassion fatigue because another mass shooting strengthens a fist around a gun
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....compassion fatigue is my krytponite
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.....compassion fatigue the ricochet of sound waves that peal back my coat of venom
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my coat of furs that's splashed with blood....
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that's splashed with the sweat of little boys and girls in faraway lands
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....in houses next door to mine, in a country just next door to mine
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just next door to mine.
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