a modern aristocracy in the American lands
where some of the most undeserving twats (some, mind you)
are flung into the public sphere
and placed on a pedestal of rose petals and thorns
thousands of people move underneath these feet of mine
who has singlehandedly built this city
they move like a swarming school of fish
is this what the fabled gods of old felt?
but as I retreat into the supposed safety of my abode
the swarm persists with high-pitched squeals
constant offers for body parts better kept hidden
and shrieking ruminations about what goes on in these walls
is taming the millions of wasps outside my front yard
each and every day, pervading all hours of the clock
worth the admiration that one gets for a job well done?
sometimes I feel like disappearing
not that I haven’t already to myself.