even as the sinners were dying they called out
oh my god oh my god
still selfish enough to call out
this my possession
as we lay dying,
killing parts of ourselves daily,
putting beliefs in fascist solar cycles,
in clusters of 11 they assist our changes,
opposition of sides, faces clenched
as galaxies of desires attract different fates,
each a part of the powers that be meta-referencing,
the global system interconnected,
to the struggle of beings intertwining tendrils,
drilling for information of diversity,
that they are not alone
but we lost all that when we switched,
roman rulers dictating the change
from the geocentric
to the solar centric,
yet going back solves nothings,
but being forced to relived past mistakes,
and learn what living with fewer emotions is like,