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You're self-absorbed and judgmental, he says --
As if I'm the only one in the
Human-mold population
On Sandwich Earth
That thinks of herself obsessively.
It's Election Season!
I reply, I retort,
I shake in reply.
I have to be.
You need to open up and let in the love
You crave so badly, he tells me --
As if teaming up with other spores
On Sandwich Earth
Will somehow save me.
No Party Affiliation!
I reply, and my eyes flare,
Like red oily poison oak.
Don't even try to sway me.
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