What right have I?
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Unabashed and unreflected intellectual relativism breeds indecision.
"Step up gladiator, take your place. Battle demons, watch out for that banana peel we left for you..."
The ringmaster snickers along with the crowd.
Compulsive turns to see what's sneaking up behind me.
Persperation dripping to the ground, sizzling angry heat.
Drums are pounding.
Out steps the lion from iron teeth of frustration.
Sword withers from the tense grasp.
Vomit rises through the throat as beasts charge in the colorful landscape.
The one weakness bares down on me.
Confusion wraps the air.
Reality is unclear.
The angry persperation sizzles in
my iron teeth of frustration.
And the ringmaster snickers with the crowd
as the poet screams for mercy from the thin air.
I beg for release,
drop my defenses and
submit to the demons that
only I can see.
I have no right...
"God grant me distraction."