a whole sky to be turned to ash in my lifetime whence no phoenix of our kind rises: beetles, bacteria and capitalism proved immortal. the train approaches the precipice; the closer to the engine, the more comfortable and powerful the passengers.
children cry up from the depths of debt for bread and help and shelter met either with the ideologue's injunction "austerity!" or deaf ears and money invested in guns, bombs and rhetoric.
a whole body to decay and to bloom, to stray through the fields and into the tomb, with hands to give shape to screaming heard only in the shadows of my eyes
to trace out the grand design of my doom to articulate on pages my sense of suspension in dread
to caress another body and forget it all in our ecstasy
or perhaps to lend freely, so as to build sandcastle-utopias together, on the shores of the blood-red sea of history by the monotonous waves and the sorrowful, joyful, invisible, indifferent, post-anthroposcenic tide approaching.
a whole body to be wasted or used, to be thrown into the fray or a figure of privilege abused: an opportunity, or a catastrophe. we must chose, we must chose.