Peering into the tinted windows of the asylum,
Wondering who are the caretakers,
And who it is that needs the care.
I wish to move into view,
Make myself known to the distressed
And convince them
I am not one of their bespeckled ghosts
Plaguing their doldrums with insignificance and inanity.
But as the group therapy session continues
And the lies and the profundity emerges
Those truly sick and truly lost
Are the shadows on the wall,
And the liars parade around in pseudosickness,
Propped up my sympathetic ego strokes and cowtowing.
Disingenuousness is the Devil’s condiment,
And both sides are guilty of its overuse.
I pray when the disturbed no longer use politics
As a miserable excuse to duck actual human responsibility,
Accept the reprehension of their actions and inactions,
And begin to act like they possess a sliver of sanity -
Leading us from darkness,
In calm, rational and collaborative steps toward the light.
I await the changes,
Anxious, delusioned, and alone.