As I sit at this round table
with the socially condemned
the deviant and
divine human souls
not otherwise specified,
I cannot help but ponder the nature and formation of the Universe,
so dreadfully random.
—this unjust genetic lottery
—these cursed phenotypic fates
so-called “unlucky losers”
When it was her turn,
one teenaged girl asked,
“OK so, should I read a poem about hating my body or attempting to kill myself?”
We find nihilistic and
comical moments like these through our suffering and
sure, there is a beauty and artistry and
runs through circles like these but.
What happens when it breaks?
We go home and the torture lives on
these conniving neurochemical demons
like a basin of poisoned water
swishing around in
If only the compassionate energy of this macrocircle could
completely replace the suffering of these microcircles.
I will never stop praying for us.
I will never stop fighting for us.
I will never stop researching for us.