Their gaze is an illusion
That slices open our souls
Picking out the threads
Of unfashionable colors.
You carved out psychic knives
That travel between windows
To slice into nerves
Only when we fear them.
A barbed electric lasso
Singing through the air
Teaches the problems
Of having just enough rope.
The windows only open
In a moment of silence
Otherwise, they mirror
The traffic and pollution they see.
They don’t reflect the daydream
That I had this afternoon,
Just the chains the bind me
To a miserable atomic life.
The outrage of a man
Can dance across the face
In the very same way
As someone else I once knew
Letting them take my threads,
“Less important” parts of my soul,
Was an error in calculation
Because one part of infinity is a lot.
It’s the Power I gave away
Forged into a weapon
Now in the hands of someone else
Just so I can be alive.
The bill is coming too quickly.
When creation is a zero sum game,
Debts paid in fullness,
Their tab will crush us all.