No. I wont offer you
My junk masked as treasure.
Free on the curb
Listless and unwanted.
But I will say this
I am tired of words
Junk masked as treasure
About what is Free.
You know, I’m not free.
And yet. I am.
Having walked every step here
I made my bed: unmade.
You hear, obedience makes you free.
A load of…well intended excrement.
That’s just something we say
When we are afraid.
Options are not free
Either is happiness. Or righteousness for that matter.
Love, maybe, solves this riddle
But then again. Tethers me.
DNA twists its never-ending conveyor-belt
Through the chemical soup in my mind
Did I really choose to wear these socks
with these shoes?
Or have the genes–gifted from my mother
Overrun the decision center of my brain?