We know the seduction of a harsh word

Like we know the succubus-like tendencies

Of pressure.

The do-its are like Loreley

Singing our ship against the winds

And we stroke

And we stroke

To join her.

More work

To leave work

To ignore and pretend and

Deny work.

Sometimes it's easier to deny everything

In favor of a small bundle of green

Wrapped in paper and burning in the

Darkness

Of life that surrounds us

It seems to surround us

The scent of skunk and responsibility

Drifting away arround us.

It smells like a concert

Like alcohol on the breath

And promises to be gentle

And the knowledge that we are unprotected.

So we seek the red and the blue

We seek the twist of fingers

That lets us know where we belong.

We seek a weapon in the people around us

We use the people around us

We use the weapon to hurt the people around us and

The blood on the streets matches the brick

Red of our bandanas and our shoelaces.

We seek a weapon

Before we learn to seek escape.

 

There's no escape in punishment.

Those above us have given into the

Seductress of

Harsh words

As we have given into the Sirens

Of ignoring responsibility

And finding protection in the brick red of our

Bandanas and our shoelaces.

Does it help to make our cheeks match the streets?

Does it change to breathe

Or shout

Or murmur the

Harsh words

Of apparent retrubution?

 

Sometimes a piece of us laughs.

We laugh

We smile

We laugh until we get home

And there's no chance to face

Responsibility

When instead we're facing a belt

When instead we're facing the cans that scatter the 

Hallway

And the knowledge that our creator has

Given in to Loreley.

No mind paid to us

Unless we forget to clean up the cans

Unless we bring up the scent of concerts

That rises to the ceiling above the

Nag champa and sweat.

We find solace in the stiff chairs

The desks that dig into ribcages

Rather than bruise them.

There's no solace in abandoning responsibility

But there is in avoiding the flowers

That spread across our chests in

Bursts

Of red-blue and green.

Violets making us pretty with the

Streamers

That line our wrists.

Our creators take to Loreley and

You

Give as much thought as they

Unless we forget to keep our faces clean

Unless we slide the paper that could be used to

Create a small light in the

Dark of our lives

Down the row

Down the row

Just focus down the row.

Just laugh down the row

Until we reach home

Until we reach the streets

Until we seek solace in retribution

We seek a weapon in the people around us

We seek escape

But you turn our cheeks the color of the bricks

That may one day match those of the prison to surround us.

No mind paid to us.

Instead the salary we are due

Is given to a paper

While no mind is paid to us.

 

Please pay mind to us.