Green Wednesday
We're lucky the clock won't strike forty-five

Or we'd be stuck here in anticipatory silence,

Waiting for that doomsday bell to chime;

And if we tried to speak

Or chill the heat

They'd leap on us like hyenas -

Like laughing hyenas.

Laughing, you turn their heads and mine -

I didn't think it was that funny -

But I'll remember hyenas next time I need a line

To pull myself out

Or reel you in

It's worth it just for the smile -

And maybe they forgot about the time.

This time, they're all resplendent in green -

Shades of verdant, overblown envy

As sweat glistens on their pale brows with a slimy sheen

They're ready, green means go

Green means go!

Quarter to seven, they're off -

Off like the Four Horsemen, or the Dogs of War

Screaming "Havoc!" into three hours of Hell

We both lag behind, you're afraid, I wonder what for

No trace of green on you

You're red like a Valentine's Day Slaughter

I'm read like an open book

And I don't care for the warm, privileged few

Or the lost multitudes, cold and shaking,

Lingering in the glacial latitudes

Of their own making.

Has apathy hit me so hard that I've forgotten where it struck?

Just pick up a crayon and color me fucked:

Green with envy, red with passion -

It's like Christmas, but without the scars,

And the snowflakes, and stars, and change.

Scratch away,

It's too painful to watch this anyway

And I have a hell of an itch

That's just beyond my reach.

The green hurts my eyes, it's everywhere now -

It's there on that big invisible monster in the corner

That lies cloaked by selective vision and a myopic crowd.

Can't they see it's all a show?

One more stop on the road?

Can't they let it go and see what I found?

They're so blind that they can't see the clock tick

They only hear it strike for right now,

They ignore the calendar as I give it another flip,

One month down, seven to go.

The edge of the paper slices across my hand

As I think of their blissfully unaware faces.

A clock strikes twenty seven,

Your eyes rest worriedly on my face.

I could care less about the rest of them

It's all just a fucking disgrace -

Their dirty looks and their arrogance

And their naivety, oblivious to consequence.

They're unaware of all the things that plague me,

The calendar melting away before my eyes,

Caught up in their petty little Wednesday scene.

A September stab of pain from my hand beckons my eyes

And I'm bleeding green.