AMERICANXIETY

As frail as ash, jaundiced as urine, and as mute as cries that fall from prey onto hunters' ears is the character of mercy thriving here. No forward moving route or path, no sheltering wings in this land of vultures. I've grown accustomed to the human distance as anchors bound to shackles hold within my chest, inhaling trepidation but exhaling breaths I yearn for you to share. You outstretch your hand vacantly and I refuse. I would rather burn than accept your sheepish praise. I would rather wear lacerations on my back from your vicious tongue that you forsake all others with. If I could be the flames you gladly cast the bodies on, I would spread to the homes of all you've ever loved. If I could breathe smoke, I would fill your lungs with it so that you may know what it is that you deny existence of. If I could see your perspective, I'd drive glass into my eyes.