Briefly do the doors allow a light
to show an escape is possible
on a twisted road poison fruits flank;
thing is they cast a scent that allures
and peddlers assure they are answers
constructed for the sake of helping
all who have no idea what they do
become okay with conformity.
But I don’t want to do it like you
do it. I want to do it like I do
it. And you can take your virtual
sour scowl stand-in for a ruler-
wielding english department prissy
pants and shove it where enjoyment
knows enough to steer miles clear from.
Oh and dear Google, you ain’t my friend.
Timmy the Scribbler 