Upside Down

I know I shall meet my end
by the stomp of a boot
leaving a smear of me on the carpet,
a reminder of my kind
or perhaps a forgotten one
on the soles of a shoe.
But untill then
I savour this upturned
view of humanity.
These hollow, empty and painted vessels,
spilling their screams,
cantankerous cacophony of their wrath.
For bear I not, a testimony:
of their effluence,
of blood and sputum,
of the foetuses unwanted,
of the corpses rotting
of the tyranny of stench,
and their exhaustion
The entropy of fear that
they could not hold behind their walls.
A token of savageness that
they could not contain beneath their cities.
The pantheon of their false gods,
that always seek light
and in darkness abandon
the teeming forms of life.
Of the faith that desires
uniformity of shapes.
Am I not that chaotic shape
in their manicured spaces?
My flailing arms and legs
a reminder of death in the mirth
of their life's embraces. 

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