They have rules…

They have rules for absolutely everything, and nothing, and all in between.

They have rules, written, and unspoken, in every shape and size, for every breath you take, and mostly for those you cannot …they have rules.

So what if, I am the outlaw with the crazy hair that has a life of its  own, a death of its own, the eye covered by black kohl or hidden behind thick glasses, the skin that changes with light, the passion that takes no sides, and the patience of a saint who has gone drunk… from Love

What if I call when I want, and when I don’t want to, what if I train myself by hurting you, and what if your pain is what you need, and what if I see what you can’t …or like to  close my eyes and stumble like a child?

They have rules that apply to the decibels of your voice, and the shape of your smile, even your scent…my scent. They look for fresh and clean…yet they’re addicted to my scent “what  perfume do you wear?” they check the bottle, “but it’ s not how you smell…”?

Well maybe I reek of poison…or drugs or love or hate and maybe you have never before smelled  a living soul …is it my fault?

Then comes the “you’re crazy”, yes I am or it’s twin “ tu es originale” , and my blend smile ... they nod their heads, they have solved the mystery and put me in the  category…those same people who like to put absolutely everything on shelves … and go to their work. Yet when I invite them to my warm chaos, few if any want to leave.

They have rules, and the sight of a murdered child does not move them, if the ruler says so, even if he is a bloodthirsty demon, and their swollen hearts know it too… dead by the rules.

And so they pray, by the rules yet cannot cite a verse to save their cursed souls, they run after their gain faithless when He said I shall give you all, and they cry when their loved ones die, but when you ask them whom they loved, their eyes are blank … you read the rules

Rules, Rulers and Ruled… I have played the game, autopsied Justice and found its murderer(s)… Rule(s)

DS