Down to the Bone

Down to the Bone

The world is a glass house.
A brown, dead thing creeps in through the cracks.
I can name it, but it has so many names.
Like Cancer, it infests.
It spreads slowly at first,

Stop throwing stones.
What will be left to build with when they’re gone?

I’m not talking about ideals.
We can’t survive without them, but we can’t live on them, either.
Instead we live on pesticides, petrochemicals, preservatives,
Pills, Pills, PILLS.

Pills to dull the pain, pills to clear the thoughts.
Pills to change the game.
Pills to mask the truth.

Creams to make you beautiful.
Sprays to make you strong.

Magic that kills you slowly.
Science, to kill you when magic fails.

We throw the stones:
Fag. Pussy. Fatty.
Bitch. Bitch.

The boulders, we keep:
Et cetera.

We look into the glass.
It reflects the burdens we carry.
The cracks mirror on our hearts.

Stop throwing stones,
Who has hands enough left to bear the weight?

The pressure on the glass is becoming too great:
Heart Disease.
The disease we carry is a stone.
It’s name is Greed.
We gorge it, then swallow it whole.

It’s weight becomes a boulder.
Someone throws another stone.

The Glass cracks.
A brown, dead thing creeps in.

Stop throwing stones.
The sky is falling, and we,
WE – bear the scars.
Under the skin.
Deep in the marrow.
Down to the Bone.

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