my heart is heavy as a corpse hanging from the State's gallows. my head is light as a child eaten away by her own hunger.
there is a marriage between mental instability and the fragility of this postmodern world. anxiety exacerbated like rising sea-levels, stress fractures greater than tectonic shifts, insomnia that shakes you from sleep, an internal alarm powered by the doomsday clock.
fury waits for me, lurking like cluster munitions on Syrian soil, primed and ready to rip the innocent limb-from-limb. bombs bought and paid for with the cold, hard cash pilfered by overlords, pick-pocketed by white, heteronormative men with invisible hands.
caught in a web of poetry amidst threads i've spun like a spider, a noose fashioned from so many strands of rope. constantly oscillating between interconnected themes: tragedy and suffering, the hallmarks of existence.
showing solidarity with the least of these virtually guarantees an early grave. to possess even a modicum of empathy in times like these is to court interminable melancholy.