the fire

we are supposed to live in a house

where magazines strictly command us how to be

you have acne?

                   pubes?

                   eyebags?

                   stretch marks?

get out

you do not fit into their construct

in which the individuals

that lost their striking trait

of individuality

now form a unity

they're all bricks

so closely glued to each other

so uniform and flexible

they can't take a single step out

without ruining their image

of what is seen as pleasing

so perhaps

instead of wishing to be a part of that house

in which taking a deep breath is a borrowing

get out

be the fire that burns their ideals

and leaves it decayed

thousands of individual bricks

spread on the virgin ground

ready to be born again

ready to be a new revolution