You Are The Problem

It's your rules.

It's your country.

It's your money.

It's your streets,

and your buildings,

and your cars,

and your flags.

Yes it is,

and none of them

are fit 

to roll,

smoke,

snort,

or shoot

my hatred

and

contempt

for 

your banality

into

the center 

of 

my certainty.