Recalcitrant

I can't fight the good.

Helping strangers infiltrates my soul.

Inside men set me up

to shovel out stuck cars for the elderly,

and toss friendly greetings from my hijacked mouth

like leaflets from a plane.

Turning away's no answer;

they've drained my vitreous humor

and poisoned my eyes with hope.

The enemy’s within,

planting peace bombs

and spraying happiness,

and wretched beauty stains the thing

I hate to call a heart.

January 26 2024