Your life, far and moderate.
All human emotions galore through your mind,
pumping loudly through your veins,
consuming your days,
But, your self-molded little world
is too remote to include the essence of my current one:
Intangibly, they encage me.
With freedom spelled on their
national toilet paper,
they chisel a reality for us to believe in,
for us to slowly perish in,
Daily, inebriated with the strife to survive,
revering for success
-broken once we choose to see through
the veil of ignorance.
For then we become the mad ones,
ripping through their cheap, shiny wrapping paper.
You, western joy of mine,
cannot grasp the corruption flying through the air
like dead hydrogen atoms.
This state I chose not
But you, there, expect me to abide my…my?…
my Laws. Whose?
Who’d want an unruly expat,
when they do not breathe
the same contaminated atoms everyday?
So you take me for the reckless one,
Broken from the house I was given
and that which I relentlessly seek.
I belong nowhere but in my mind
-my equally poisoned mind.
Poisoned: by my own refusal
to fill my lungs and mind with the same air:
that rotten, communist air.
I choose to choke, and to die
to come to life for real right next to you,
my western joy.
Only when I’ll free myself…
I’ll have gone insane.