liar fancy pants

you tell me it’s hard
talk of loneliness,
like you know
in the same breath
as you remind me
of the death counts
and the need for us
to do our part:
stay away,
don’t talk to me,
just don’t
sing,
because I am your
killer, your
worst nightmare

don’t tell me
you’re on your
last lifeline,
and you need a hand (sanitizer)
and you wish I would
hold you close,
saying, “it doesn’t matter,
we’ll be okay,
I’ll make an exception,
for you”

don’t tell me about the
endless nights,
you wish you had died, instead
the children are our future,
as you shut them up in their
cute little pens,
lying about santa claus, destiny,
and love

“you can’t do what you want,
you must sign these papers,
in triplicate, and if you disobey,
your papers will become
your shackles,”
we’ll take them away,
we’ll take everything
we made you

you can make the embroidery
the guitar and the everyday
prettier, shiny tinsel
for domestic terrorists,
you can sneak in a choir,
dangling salvation,
like a carrot

but zoom
can’t wash away
all this blood
on your hands

fuck you okay
just fuck you

(nothing personal)

Originally published at https://carolbankswebercoggie.wordpress.com on January 17, 2021.