We were thrown into bleak isolation,
Given nothing but our own small tapping
Of breath on our teeth
We turned our repression into
A blank canvas, a responsibility.
A must. Show our children this is where to stand
Fool us with power, all we see is
A tricked out engine, head on cruise control
A small hair in our can of soul
We'll raise painters who will raise questions
That will raise the need for answers that will raise
The need for painters
We will choke on goblets of sewage
And promiscuous stench sent our way
Exploit ourselves, only in the beginning,
To the gutter of conformity and roll over
To a spiked, bullet-shooting PowerPoint
Thought process
We are raccoons that recognize the snare
Trap, disguised in glutinous satisfaction
We must walk in, or starve
Impact, BAM, crushing whims of fat brains
Fight to see heat waves coming
From our mouths, staining
Our teeth red
Hannah Thompson-Garner
The Repression of a Responsible Community