And now for something completely different: poetry edition

I am John Locke

I'm not a box salesman but I might as well be.

My back's not shattered but I feel paralyzed.

My father never pushed me out a window but he broke me just the same.

I've never gone on a walkabout but I wander aimlessly.

I've wasted most of my life.

I crashed on this Island Earth and it's scary and I find it a miracle.

I sit in the rain, smiling.

I seek the Hatch though I don't know what it will look like when I find it. I carry dynamite always - just in case.

I push the button. I'm not sure what it's for or whether it's important. It's certainly boring. I press it again.

I have faith and I'm usually wrong but it's all I've got.

I follow whims, I wish and call it revelation.

I throw knives into the backs of strangers because of my ego, and because I think it's the right thing to do.

I murder bunnies for bar-b-que, feed live grenades to psychics.

I revisit the past and make myself into something I'm not.

I try to convince my friends we can go back, that we are all special, but they don't believe me. I give my life for them though they don't require it. I just want us all to be okay.

I don't understand.

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