La Haine

I think I am sick
Many others think so too
My thoughts are impure and fucked up
My opinions are filled with poison and hate
For you, you, you and yes, you too
They're rotting away in my head
Like corpses under the ground
There is a worm buffet in my head, man
The stench of one thousand opinions unsaid
Because, let's face it,
I am fucking afraid
Afraid of the rabid, faceless mob
Of people who know better than me
Of course they do, they've read books
And journals, and published papers
Headed an NGO or two too
They rescue kittens from the roads, man
For fuck's sake, how can they be wrong?
They'd tweet out requests for blood
And retweet tweets to find missing children
They'd stand on their soapboxes and shot
#BlackLivesMatter
Hashtag, bro.
It's got to be important. Right?
They're here.
Big brother is the new mob
And the mob is always watching
With a phone album of screenshots
Of every transgression against every opinion
They'll file an FIR on me, man.
It makes me want to shit my pants.
I am so fucking afraid, dude
What if they land up at my house?
Or stop me in the street
With a print out of my 2011 tweet
Where I called some bitch a bitch
I don't want to deal with cops, man
All I had was an opinion
Now my foot is in my mouth
And I am chewing on my sock
Online activism makes my brain hurt
But it rushes blood to my cock
Saliva runs down my chin
As I scroll through the lull
My belly gurgles empty
But my mouth is always full

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Social media feeds are full of shit. But this blog will always be my safe place.