I live in the first century of the clone wars most morning we’d wake up swiping up. the new papers don’t arrive no more because the news pours out of various device interrupting morning thoughts, selling us products to own more. we think sophisticatedly but stay closed off. happy to be clones, to be sold love. living vicariously through actors, models or influencers who show more. we think they are intelligent, they brave enough assuming they know more. consider the singular ways we live consumed by our individualism, our greed. consider the trees and the many people who puff this **** to cope on. each year, iPhones get expensive while screen light darkens the truth. I rarely write with a pen if i don't have autocorrect but I am a graduate, a grown up. I am reconciling with this spell from upon which i proceed but this war still goes on. imagine we find each other, then construct mutual peace instead of flashing lightsabers because we are so tough. imagine we say our piece while pinning respect on our sleeves, then step out the street to hold hands. its only the first century of this clone war yet we are exhausted, from everyone being so right and i wonder if we ever gon slow down.