We were thrown into bleak isolation,

Given nothing but our own small tapping

Of breath on our teeth

We turned our repression into

A blank canvas, a responsibility.

A must. Show our children this is where to stand

Fool us with power, all we see is

A tricked out engine, head on cruise control

A small hair in our can of soul

We'll raise painters who will raise questions

That will raise the need for answers that will raise

The need for painters

We will choke on goblets of sewage

And promiscuous stench sent our way

Exploit ourselves, only in the beginning,

To the gutter of conformity and roll over

To a spiked, bullet-shooting PowerPoint

Thought process

We are raccoons that recognize the snare

Trap, disguised in glutinous satisfaction

We must walk in, or starve

Impact, BAM, crushing whims of fat brains

Fight to see heat waves coming

From our mouths, staining

Our teeth red

Hannah Thompson-Garner

The Repression of a Responsible Community