Killing the Queen

I would like to start by saying that I wasn't always crazy.
In preschool I laughed with the grasshoppers and worms and safeguarded pebbles in my shoebox...

— You want the government to feel your twitching palms?

I need the lobbies to gloss over in the swipe of my cold sweat.

— And when they dismiss you...

The Institute for Social Development will rent with my skin,
and normalcy will be blooded on 193 flagpoles
in front of the jesters in Geneva.

— And the note?

"I want to tap dance or do Scottish folk.
But the only dance I can do is the Twist,
and the gym blasts beat pop."

— ...

I plunged the dishes clean until the bleach spurted out like semen
and shoved the bleach down a vat with a brain inside,
and you know what I found?
The Puppet Mistress measures the strings and stands the puppet on the tip of his shoes.
My blood isn't red.

— ...

But
as long as I am not desperate,
as long as I hold onto high standards and raise my self-esteem above the judgement of men,
their pain won't defeat me.

— Freak, you see turned toward you on the humans' spines.
Their pinna flip back, back.

They construed my thoughts down my eyes
and served no hand,
though they were kind:
just reversed my tears
with a veto in Congress.
Mom told me that I was special, that I was caring,
and someone would understand
that I was special, that I was caring...
Mommy, look at your boy.

— Understanding is only a luxury...

Of the Bell Curve.
So won't you hang me before I metamorphisize into a speedy crawler below the victims on Nancy Grace
and then hold me for just once in my life and swollen neck?

— These
just are your arms
reckoning out...
The whole of this poem,
your only reader was yourself.