birthright

the rabbit is just a rabbit

the window is just a door 

is it a sin 

to hold this thing

that always asks for more?

it’s the same spin you did

when you were four 

over and over again 

until you’re on your knees on the floor

never again, you say what you’ve said

a thousand times before 

but it never ends

its had your wrists since you’ve known

that the window is a door

you could leave through at any moment

you never bought it but you still own it

your own blood is a noose you 

didn’t tie around your neck tell me is it a sin

to carry along this thing

that will not let you rest?

it’s electric, it’s magnetic, it clicks with a dull thud

it finds its own kind wherever it goes 

with both eyes closed 

it’s the same spin that you did

when you were 10

again and again until you vomited into the sand

it’s the same spin your father did 

again and again

till his life coiled around the drain and left him

an empty man 

it’s the same spin his father did 

and his before him 

his brother his sister his cousin 

every single one of his friends 

you walk down roads 

with hungry eyes and hungrier hands

your need a knot in your lungs 

your fingernails itch

there’s never enough you’re never enough

you can only be yourself if they give you a kick

if they wind you up if they whet your whistle

if you find what you’re looking for amidst the

shine and grime 

though you know already when you catch that fish

who you’re gonna feed it to;

that-which-devours, that which hides under your collar

call it an exit wound 

call it a birthmark 

call it friend

what does it matter?

It’s made you a husk its got you

counting on luck its made you a slave

to lady Fortuna