I wish I could blind myself as others do. I wish I could make myself believe as they do. How much simpler my life would be, how much easier to sleep at night.
But like a howling psychosis that rumbles through the head of the sick I can't make my sight leave me, and the visions keep coming true.
I wish I could make myself believe in the war in Iraq. That way, the fresh stories of dead soldiers wouldn't whiz past my ears like bullets, a buzzing reminder that Bush's central front on the war on terror is closely approaching the number of dead on 9/11. I wouldn't feel the skin on my hand wearing away from wringing them over whether or not I'll ever see my friends again. I wouldn't see my father's face in the faces of the ones that have returned, a reflection of a Vietnam veteran in their countenance.
I wish I could believe that my government has my best interests at heart when they spy on my fellow citizens. Where is the ocean of Valium that I can consume to make myself apathetic? Where is the goddammed microchip in my head that's supposed to make me forget every time I post to the internet or pick up my phone?
I'm only a high-school graduate. Where is MY lack of understanding that allows my government carte blanche to run my life? Why can't I be that dumb? Why do I know that checks and balances should be maintained and not flushed away like so much detritus?
These questions haunt me as I sit in my cell, the walls padded only with the knowledge that the system works and that November will come. Through the bars I see a buffet of corruption and money, with Republicans scooting their chairs in close to feed from it. There are ropes attached to the stool legs, and voters are pulling on the ropes. Right now, about 1 in 3 of those voters are squished under the legs of the stool, their blinders not giving them a clue as to how to get from under. The others, though, are pulling at those legs, hoping to pull the Republican's stools out from under them.
Above me, my pinhole skylight shows me the promise of what's to come.
In the meantime, the terrible weight of knowledge is pressing down on me.