You Should Know

And as the sun was setting, the dogs were barking at the stark naked dark and the challenge of a Revolution. Cigarette burns on the tops of my thighs, I'm out of my mind when the nicotine channels through the channel of my frontal lobe, to and fro of the "You should know." Ask me a question and I'll question your answers about the tumor you call freedom. Locomotion of the locomotive and my motives for overwhelming emotion, spoken ambitions in my emancipation from what "feminine" looks like. I threw the baton to the next woman in line for the rat-race, but you see, we're not vermin. I'm no mouse. I have a big heart, not full of gold but full of love, and when I put forth an effort and take it to the edge, the brink of where I begin sinking and thinking without thoughts, I take a breath. I'm bull-dozing the bullshit and the hypocrisy from the most beautiful of mouths. Who should I blame for the shame brought upon by your lack of love and my overly progressive notions of the ebb and flow of words through your soft, sandy lips? Or maybe my mind's in a place where I can't trust my mental state, wipe my face and pick up the pace as the rat-race continues, but I untie my shoes and step in a puddle because I like the way it feels.