You, with your amusing accusations,
when your words utter from my throat
then you can be sure I am persuaded by them.

I'm troubled by
1) people who don't talk of the things that are important to them,
2) the arrogance of a nation that gives me permission to be free,
3) the apparent poverty of the universe in comparison to the planet.

I've the right to my accuser's face,
to defend my facade from deleterious overture,
to know things           to do things           to have things.

But whatever the comforts
I won't embrace the bonds of culture
and pretend myself stronger for the limits,
an aesthetic of befuddlement.

Recipe for self-harm:
impose your will on another.

No is always weaker than yes.

You, who are so not-me,
reject my condemnation, will you?