We are not permitted to choose the frame of our destiny, but what we put into it is ours.
-Dag Hammarskjold, Markings, p. 51
Through eating, fatting, sleeping, video games En couchant in a stasis ossified By the low expectations of the zeitgeist (“What’s a zeitgeist?”) some flail into history
The ironic echoes of Call of Duty Flatten against an empty ‘tater-chip bag Yesterday flung into the baby’s crib (“Ain’t no one seen little Shawnee today?”)
His MePhone case is manly hunter green He's checkin’ out the fantasies on a glowing screen