poem of the day 01.04.23

jury duty

this is where the ideal
of american exceptionalism and freedom

come to die

and the american flag
bends like a limp cock
in every corner of the room

hallelujah, i’ve found a place
worse than work

whose only selling point
is that it isn’t prison or the morgue

they play us videos
about our civic duty

vocational awe
for the average joe

call our names
and pluck us away
by the tortured or frightened dozens

to those of us left to rot
there are no number of books left
to quell the boredom

no number of podcasts
and not enough music in the world

once faces a moral reckoning
the examined life
whether they want to or not
locked up in here

sitting in this room
if you listen closely

one can hear the sound
of people’s souls molting into dust

ugly people
attractive people
the sick and the dull

there is no differentiation
in this space and time

just the illusion of a life once lived
outside

in the sun
in the rain

in love and hate

where we were once people

not whatever
slumbering monsters

this experience
has turned us
into.

                                    01.04.23