Like some guilt-riddled catholic,
Convicted by the involuntary act
Of having been wrenched
Howling from a womb.
My hind-brain has been conditioned
To seek atonement for sins
That exist only in the world
Of my detractors.
My fore-brain shuns them.
It bids them take their hypocritical creeds
And shove them up their aisles.
But until the ‘Fore’
Informs the ‘Hind’,
I continue to be drawn into the dance;
Distracted by the siren, monotonous music
Of gullible martyrs
With unbending certainties