“Prepare to be Assimilated”

no matter how old I am
nor how far I travel
my mother’s voice follows
the proverbial sword above my head
touting bits of self-proclaimed wisdom
mind you, I accept our differences
to her, my name is excuse
sympathetic attention from congregation members
someone to pray for, to look down upon
a reason to pity her-
her misguided disappointment progeny
on days when the world seems to have lost it
-s collective sanity
and I am so desperately alone
begging for any person to be
just to be
without irrational processing
without dramatic mis-statements
to just exist
as a logical, functioning human
placed within the same reality
as we all are
without pretending to be anywhere else
or anyone else
still, I hear her voice
“It can’t be the rest of the world with the problem
Melissa, it has to be you.”
and I wonder
have the pods landed?
or perhaps I
have finally stepped beyond sanity
and find myself, unaware
a host whose brain cannot commit to the idea
that it is time, finally, to be committed
like my mother before me
to strap on the hug jacket
and offer a Thorazine smile to the nice men in white
as they discuss me like a specimen
my progress or regression
or is it possible
that I am becoming entirely too sane
certainly I feel consistent
like the world is spinning madly
and I, alone, am pointing at the apocalypse
asking why
no one seems to notice
then they turn on me
rabid, angry
as if I become the aggressor
by destroying a fiction
as if the matrix is real
and I wonder
watching them turn their potato heads
on neckless bodies
to stare at the disruption to the calm
to stare at me
like I am an invasive species
or perhaps
I’ll be whisked away and forced to drink the water
from which their seeming unity through stupidity must flow
have a pill, calm down, stop resisting, remain calm
I swear
if once I was sane
it was them who drove me to madness

© M. Black, 2017 All rights reserved.


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