if it pisses you off that some are not color coded sifted set like tombstones in your eyes, if my mode of dress, my hands, my hair, my ways make you uncomfortable about yourself and your exact place in the universe, if you're angry at parents, teachers, girlfriend, boyfriend, self, or you just can't stand some blue boy with a gun telling you where to get off and you feel the need to take it out on eachother, if you came to mosh, but don't know how to play, if you think the object of freedom bopping, sky dancing, whirling dervish banshee cry is to impale someone I love on your ego. If you can't harbor homos, homeless, fractured family, damaged poets screaming naked at the world, good god!

And if I can't handle you, your ways, language, thinking, religeous rights, if being in the same room with you grates against my moral fiber, such as it may be, well then...

there's the door.