Oh how the stars do call to us. Oh how high us monkeys climbed. We till the fields, we stack the stones, there’s not one good thing we’ll leave alone. We learn to read the room, work our spells and prayers and lies towards that prize we keep eying, never obliged to watch where we’re going. We keep at the story, we dust the crowd with dreams, the words welling up until we believe it too. Watch the way the buzz words travel. Watch the thing everyone suddenly says. Half smart, half heart, we carry on without concern for consequences. We only worry about the alibi.
It’s all about how you dress up the violence. It’s all about how you sell them theft. Put a badge or a crown or a title on them, put an unseen entity out there somewhere that somehow has their back. Blame it on the devil, blame it on Cain, blame it on their skin or tongue or the way they fit the frame. They will preach at you, they will pronounce your sentence, they will quantify your character before they cage you and steal your life. You get born wrong, and the sticks and stones you get complimentary with the words they use to find your fault. You get born wrong, they’ll beat you dead with their Bible belts.
So we live in the stacks of the fantastic, built brick by brick for ten thousand years, language a likely story full of silly rabbit tricks. So we couch our actions in explanations after the fact, this culture of con men and hucksters, this society of blown smoke and bullet wounds. Caveat emptor while they duck out the back door. We allow ourselves to be robbed and poisoned and cast into destitution while the built in criminals tell us from their avaricious hoards to work harder and go without. We are by far the dumbest animal, full of words and shit.
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