Poison Pen Letters (2)
I spend my life forever in the shadow of contempt. Pinned down by
their quietous claw, held under scrutiny, their incomprehension my
only saving grace as I am raked over their dimly lit coals.
The realisation strikes me that the 'truths' they hold to be
self-evident are merely a declaration of interdependence, their
evidence amounting to a preponderance of small-mindedness, the only
substance upon which they base their whispered platitudes. It's like
living in a bee hive.