The Good Patient
The Arsonist looks at me with tears in his eyes, smiling, euphoric.
I have been trying to flush the word compliance out of my vocabulary
but maybe i just replaced it with "adherence" as a mater of semantics.
The good patient the good patient the good patient echoes through my head.
I had so much hope, and maybe so much love, and here it is:
I see it, love, in wide teary eyes.
Does he love me almost as much as the people whose thoughts
echo in his mind and tell him to do terrible things?
(things he doesn't question because "they" are special beings)
I look in his eyes and know i could love a zealot, a criminal,
a person who follows in the worst circumstances.
And I question love
and i question adhernce
and i realize i never really did question compliance
before this, not truly.
I could be a voice echoing through your head
telling you to eat vegetables, take your medicines,
check your blood sugar, or use condoms,
or run through the streets naked, set your books on fire,
throw dishes at your mother who is actually a serpent,
bite someone's face; it wouldn't really matter which.
I am surrounded by white light
(the racism of that statement intentional, if not unquestioned)
and so you comply, adhere, comply, adhere.
The good patient, good patient, good patient.
And i question good, which is, i'm afraid,
something i forgot to do for a minute there.
I have been trying to flush the word compliance out of my vocabulary
but maybe i just replaced it with "adherence" as a mater of semantics.
The good patient the good patient the good patient echoes through my head.
I had so much hope, and maybe so much love, and here it is:
I see it, love, in wide teary eyes.
Does he love me almost as much as the people whose thoughts
echo in his mind and tell him to do terrible things?
(things he doesn't question because "they" are special beings)
I look in his eyes and know i could love a zealot, a criminal,
a person who follows in the worst circumstances.
And I question love
and i question adhernce
and i realize i never really did question compliance
before this, not truly.
I could be a voice echoing through your head
telling you to eat vegetables, take your medicines,
check your blood sugar, or use condoms,
or run through the streets naked, set your books on fire,
throw dishes at your mother who is actually a serpent,
bite someone's face; it wouldn't really matter which.
I am surrounded by white light
(the racism of that statement intentional, if not unquestioned)
and so you comply, adhere, comply, adhere.
The good patient, good patient, good patient.
And i question good, which is, i'm afraid,
something i forgot to do for a minute there.