Drinking the Tea

Decades of taxing my body

matters not to the tax


on wages, tax on property,

tax on welfare, tax on health, tax


on labor, even a death tax.  It’s all taxing

to the quality of all existence.


He Said: “She’s a Doll”


A motionless doll prone

on the floor, I am wet

with weeping.  Being indignant

for being treated by the world

with indifference, I will be pulled

up by the strings of my Master.  I will

swallow the pride lumped in my throat, to play

whatever role they allow: Corporate

Whore, Grease Monkey, Farm Hand, Dirty

Prostitute, Walmart Cashier.  Naturally, I bend

flipping about the masks painted with grand

illusions of want representing human

intention.  Nothing about my character is fluid

because I am frozen by rituals of everyday

life.  I am lost in the stuffing.

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