“And the world spins madly on”

My brain cells swimming in a tank
of selfishness. I’m the brute,
the Leviathan bastard.

I’m a simple swivel chair
in the middle of Times Square.

I do not swivel.

The world walks past me
with ears of fear, hearts
of anger, their hearts bloom
from their innards like budding
glory and I, I am the bluebird
on the arterial branch next
to their hypocrisy tucked
within a trap door next to
the metaphorical heart.

Let them mock me like robots.
Let them judge me like members on a pew.
Let them shun me from their
open-door Christian abode.

I walk into their double doors,
my sins dripping red like a cloak
wrapped about my morality.

I am raw.
I am exposed,
a breast feeding woman on a pew,
robot eyes swivel like a chair
in Time’s Square.

My two eyes meet
the frowning eyes of
so many, so many.

I do not swivel.