Rage

Unplug, un-think, un-feel-at-all,
The nerves are dead,
you leper,
crawl.
An artifice, oh coroner, warm his eyes with wool;
lay back
and sleep
in sloth old man
eat 'til your belly's full.

Rage against your purpose,
and rage against this life.
Knotting fingers into fists
and blacken both your eyes.

For eyes see not the heart within,
nor hear its muted cries
over the glare of tv screen
or blare of spoken lies.
Think not of anything at all,
think not of me, nor them.
For when you wake,
we'll all be gone
and who shall feed you then?