As a dog would pin a man to the ground and lick his face,
i can feel the media licking mine,
the heavy moist saliva seeping into every orifice,
as giant paws of order pin me to the dirt,
Picture after picture of poorly dressed girls of wire and string,
poured over men of mountin posture,
instructions to rib tight dieting fads,
the only size a girl is allowed to wear and the only style a girl can be,
every single fashion inflicted image seeping into my eyes no matter which way i turn my head,
Lyrical lines of repetitive signals mixed into a medium once recognized as an art,
dripping into my ears and drizzling its way into my brain,
carrying ship loads of messages about the way i should speak,
and listen,
and learn,
clogging up my mind with what i should be, not what i am,
But the worst part of all is the way it finds its way into my mouth,
forcing me to clench my lips together in fear that
it will run down my tongue then throat filling me to the brim with rules and regulations,
filling up my throat will of Course fill up my thoughts,
no time to think about what is wrong when you are too caught up in what’s happening,
and with a fear like that you won’t ever open your mouth,
but that will leave you speechless,
unable to sell my words on the street,
and at home,
and in school,
Whatever way i turn my head it will be there,
what’s “good for you”,
what’s good for them,
that wet, pink dosage of rough love smothering you in the dampness of everything influential,
the well known softness of everything covering the medias body,
hides well the white teeth of the criminal system,
waiting for you to push back,
for you to rebel,
and then of course as any good dog of the law would do,
when faced with a threat to the minds of those it has locked down in zombie form,
it would go for your throat,
and silence you.