Million Dead I Gave My Eyes To Stevie Wonder
credit cards, sealed lifts and covert sanitation,
processed meat and a national waste disposal system:
the scale of deception begs the question what it is
we're burying.
cosmetics, contact lenses and plastic surgery: bulk
orders for yet more imperial finery. double-glazing for
phasing out suspicions that this is really happening.
it seems this season the cool kids are sporting white
canes and braille zines.
and when i close my eyes am i invisible?
an embarrassed smile and you assume that i'm being
rhetorical.
but if i don't see it die this animal is invincible.
i won't catch your eyes tonight, i will stutter my way
through naked poverty until i'm across the street
(safe).
i justified giving my eyes to stevie wonder with some
spiel about a sense of wonder to discover, but i was
hiding under cover of the excuse of helplessness.
i fell in line with the cool kids and spared my eyes
instead of change.
i just called to say that someone moved my furniture
around, and so i fell down, and i hatched a plan here
sprawled on the ground.
so hey, what do you say, we pack our things and call it
a day. some come round, let's lose that frown, and you
and i will leave this town behind
