I shall not palter or add much finesse
Because I am a heterosexual male,
And white to boot. Should I have the largesse
To accept the guilt when others assail

The women, gays, blacks or whomsoever
You think, I may think? "I take for granted
Privilege!" But I'm attacked, with anger,
For my cosmetic sin. Enchanted

I am, with cock, Eros and hue of skin
Which justifies the phlegm and excrement
Hurled my way. I endure your within,
Even as you hack away at rudiments

Which vitiate your tumid philippics -
I'm no rich kid, no cold inheritrix.

Seven billion souls all yearn for purpose.
This would be a problem, if we weren’t dumb
By birth or by choice - whatever. The surplus
Cash pettifoggers extract also numbs

Which is smartly done - they engineer meaning
And control demand, with self-policing
Networks of status and distinction. Feelings
Proscribed with junk, we forgive their fleecing.

So long as we receive our daily dose,
We can touch the sublime from guttering.
Commodities sold are the grandiose
Delusions of addicted lives. Stuttering

Through days, years, decades: stuck on repeat.
Shopping or heroin? The main thing? We bleat.

Unroofed, my heart's arrhythmic and target
Encircled. The clouds are rotten, plaster things
Crumbling a grey mist, fingered. Up I drift
Past all the copters - the sects surveilling

My sense for rent. Parallax, a reversed
Me unfolds: Prison Street sounds. I'm wailing
Free, as the fist clacks down my spine: a cursed
Stick jangling down the harp iron railings -

Bone bare nerves. I'm shaking viscerally
In Eyeball park. Through the heart, a threaded cord
Is yanked by stares. Heads jolt. Panic. I flee
Home, to close my coffin lid. Mind part-stored,

Nailed shut, and styptic. Years in seconds spent
In pasts. The future's static: document.