The World’s your enemy, you sigh.
Against its stiffened prick,
You, like a wildly rearing stallion,
Kick.
Although you call yourself corralled in it,
I see you on your back,
Victimious, Cradled in the lies that keep you
sick.
Sigh, kick.
Your delusion’s walls are thick.
Your persecutors powerful and
Psychic.