Above The Rabbit Hole

I am a stranger in my own home.
A place full of scapegoats and grease.
Where creatures esoterically love what they hate
In dark corners and backseats.
Nothing exists outside, I am told,
Only naked children and bad plumbing.

God lives here and is trusted.
He hides behind dying trees and politicians;
A digested tool for ruinous machinery.
A puppet with invisible strings: thick and through.
I can see his master screaming at me in every room-
While simultaneously shaking hands and starting wars.

Suffocated by unfriendly eyes, I walk alone,
Though never far from the color-coded juries
Born on an assembly line with pointing fingers.
I can easily see who they are and what they demand
For it is carved into their foreheads-
Conform, serve, or do not exist.

The streets are littered with victims
Of cheap pornography and locked doors.
Talking sheep are second-in-command;
They give their souls and avert their eyes
To graze in pastures of green paper and false hope.
Who shall save them from the wolf they serve?

This is where I live.
Surviving on friendly whispers from afar
And brief encounters with enlightened cats.
I could not recognize a hug even if it were given.
It has been so long since I have been touched-
I fear my skin no longer works.

And so here I wait
With disgust painted on my face.
This is a world of so many eccentricities,
Yet flavors are bland,
Colors are faded,
And the sun is rare.

Where is my rabbit hole?
I do not care to stay.