The tree is dead
I don’t have much to say. I woke up into a world much more antagonistic to me, with the knowledge that friends and family decided that I was expendable and that what they probably wanted is not something they’re going to get anyway—unless the cruelty was the point, in which case, congratulations, you won.
For those saying it isn’t that bad: Yes. Yes, it is. This isn’t like last time at all, which was bad enough.
ALL ROADS LEAD TO ROME
there’s a trail of tears east to west
tracks of tears dusted with fine white powder
roads of silk and spice fallow with salt
paths from multitudinous veins
hearts beaten under vile souls
held up on broken backs of burden
so we would not dampen our slippers
or soil our gloves on rivers run red
sick sickened sickening
we cast out to claim
leave mile markers of smallpox
wash our hands of dysentery and cholera
of hundreds of miles of skin slough
burning and bubbling with boils
gasping in yellow mist screaming
i can’t breathe
all not exchanged in profit
burned for incense to please petit gods
at the top of a heap of hoarded gold
surrounded by guns for hire
and fire extinguishers
while children clutch stomachs screaming
i’m hungry
services render to business
like fat from meat charred to charcoal
ashes compressed to diamonds
worth more cremated than alive
just another river cursed
gold vein and gemstones panned
earth enslaved to artificial
the clamoring of sociopaths who
build blocks and knock them down
and refuse to share
we are what we prize
we put on pedestals such pedestrian shit
elevate the cruel
reward the heartless
ruthless brutal is in season in all these hotter months
neither saint nor sinner but trending says it’s so
compensate for attention
expose moments unmeant for mass consumption
all eyes on the movement
for a clever quip
my kingdom for a click
