Sowing Seeds in Fields of Bone

May you fear every breath that rattles your house of cards. Let them see you shaking. Waiting for the flood waters to wash the rot out. Tremble with panic, lash out, flail, and cry. Let the winds peel off your veneer of peace. Soil the image, leave it balled at your feet. The egregore you’ve cobbled to fear only works to damn you. Reflexive performative posturing… Inflated sense of superiority. Who do you think that you are? With a thumb turned down rejecting an open hand. Over-indulged demagogue, self-appointed man-god fake. May the prey you’ve made break you with the hunter’s tools. May your ghosts rise up to Let a light shine on what you are. Falling so slowly. Mouth still running. Be the seed that sprouts an age of growth Feed the fascists back to the soil.

It’s not the innocence of a child with an air tight jar, a broken branch with a single leaf, Crushing wings of flying things shoved inside. It’s not just the arrogance of an unchecked man, getting off on all of the power he callously wields at the tip of a pen. They know. They know what. They know exactly what they’re doing. They push it with a smile. Meet them. Find them in their homes. Put them down on their knees. Make sure they see everything.

We’re live: watching future’s end in real time. They normalize death until you go on with your life numb to what awaits you if you color outside of their lines. Every thing is bleeding out into the open. Read it. The byline by the share holder. This well runs much deeper, The frame gets much wider. A man just doused himself And thumbed at his lighter. Yelled so you could hear him, But time is cut for advertisers. Business as usual. This is what they’ve decided is normal. Let this hell change you. Let it all affect you. “And may the flame that burns inside us, burn everything around us”* There is no divine purpose, That won’t find its way back to bury you. Reap and sow. *Panayiotis Argyrou

What oxygen can my love hope to provide as we’re choked to death on a dying star? I want to share something: I should be severing the arteries of these vampires. Cut them down where they feed, for their friends to see. Expose their veins, to be shown full of nothing. But we’re all on the same track racing predestination, men we’ve never seen waiting for the best cut. Just trying to get through the day, not sure if it’s the last one. Do they win if it’s the last one? Livestock outfitted in blinders, waltz up the ramp. Wait for the breeze of the bolt - hope one shot does the trick. Bring it back to them. Leave them writhing, gargling their own teeth. Hold it to them. Leave them writhing, gargling their own teeth. If you need a sacrificial lamb: Welcome to the herd. Die down here with the rest of us. What oxygen can my love hope to provide as we’re choked to death on a dying star?