Bile

The problem is not disorganization
or distraction, though I suffer both
like two interwoven chains
entwined in all the wrong ways
no, the problem is that I'm aware
of the distraction
hypersensitive to its intent
helpless to point it out
lest I look crazy
lest I not conform
and they take me away
Maybe we talk about him so much
because we're so much like him
we mock the devil as if we're safe
as if he's not poking hooked fingers
into our darkest corners
drawing the hatred out
unleashing a flood
maybe the one they predicted
maybe not
It's pure bile, simmering over
filling the thick veins of this country
with a poison that took me by surprise