i have been educated to tears,
incapable of nurturing my thirsting
thoughts. my stale vocabulary
cracks the earth, the foundation
of my soul.
the thesaurus is a watering can
that tips it’s spout
in times need has surpassed
it’s well-doing by expectation.
the soil is inhospitable in this
institution, public desert.
land of nuclear tests for enrichment
of knowledge scorch
the capable terrain,
nullify regeneration. thought
is treasured only when it produces.
fruit of civilization,
the polar opposite to the fruit
of knowledge.
god is somewhere in the middle,
a character flaw
or some flawed character
that is in dire need of assassination.
and then,
the story can be completed.