the man with the gun

each of us has the man with the gun inside

whether we know it or not

each of us has our breaking point

and the ammunition to fulfill it

carefully hidden

within

each of us has been bitten

by the bullets

of both the most ‘ill’

and ‘fit’

among us

—war wounds

scorched clean

by the silence

of contemporary etiquette

and for every one of these injuries

nursed alone

a deposit is made

of casing and powder

falling with a 'clink'

onto a pile

we may one day think

into action

we are hunters, after all

and gatherers

forced from the savanna

and the madness

of midnight dance & fire

into shopping malls

and study halls

and apartment walls

so close

there is nowhere left to go

but into memory

and fantasy

and screens reflecting dreams

that began long before we were born

creating gods

and peons

from the 'living room' floor

the unthinking adjust to it

easily enough

just as the 'winners' do

while a lucky few

manage to sublimate

but far too many

simply disintegrate

under the weight

of all the fear

really, are we so surprised

that the man with the gun

has begun consuming us?

when love is commodified

and death

stripped of its meaning and sacredness

when adaptation fails, time and again,

and isolation

becomes the only safe space

for those

with more questions

than answers

what is left

but resistance?

beat a dog long enough

and hard enough

and you will achieve

the submission of its spirit

but turn your back on him then

and you will feel the teeth

of an instinct

formed before history

sink in

as surely

as you, yourself

have denied

the man with the gun within

---

Image: Pixabay