My Escape

Here’s who I am
let me tell you
the kind of person
he sees a solitary wasp
attempting a bust through glass
to make its escape
out a closed window
and what do I think…
there must be a hive
all angry
full of menace
in the attic
under the floorboards
and I can hear the bumbling
it fills my ears
a song of violence
of stinging, swollen
gasping-for-breath endings
…and about that
it’s not the death
I find bothersome
but the means to it
in the swarming thoughtless crowd
needling me
incessantly
steeped in the dull, dull buzz
of their group-thinking mind
my sense of self contaminated, confused
as I’m pierced, defiled
skin blisters
puffing outwards
the borders of my body
become ill-defined
who I am
who they are
who am I
here’s who I am
let me tell you
the kind of person
who wants to be a solitary wasp
to bust through glass
make my escape

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