|
All the sucked thumbs and held skirts |
|
And blankets so secure |
|
They block out the sweep of |
|
The floodlights that could free them from |
|
The darkness that surrounds them |
|
The demons that keep hounding them |
|
And gouge their eyes |
|
Until all they can see |
|
Are rigid dichotomies |
|
Of the sacred and the profane |
|
Salvation or shame, with fuck-all in between |
|
The human impulse to explain |
|
Hijacked, a controlled flight into terrain |
|
To ensure no passenger ever makes |
|
Any connection between the proscription of mystery and their malaise |
|
Tidy pairings of inverse binaries |
|
We all seek meaning in our lives |
|
But when every shadow of doubt is denied |
|
The sanctification of hatred thrives |
|
On every sucked thumb and held skirt |
|
And blanket so secure |
|
They block out the sweep of |
|
The floodlights that could free us from |
|
The darkness that surrounds us |
|
The demons that keep hounding us |
|
We put out our own eyes |
|
And reproach the blind |
