extant

It does no good to fret and fuss, it does no good to fight and strive. The table is set, drabs and drabs on mismatched dishes, some helping themselves to heaps and heaps while others are told to wait their turn. If you play along maybe you’ll get to some promised heaven, though it sounds like a scam to me. Colorblind, I see past the plumage. Empty handed, I know where to put the knife.

The smart play would be to get up and go. The smart play would be to bury them beneath a flurry of fists and furies, a bullet in the belly and the house on fire. They won’t be satisfied until your in chains. They won’t be satisfied until they murder the last life on earth, they won’t be satisfied until they swallow the suns. No distinction between their gods and monsters. No room to breathe or bloom. 

The room is always empty. The light is always on. There’s no one left to take your part, just honey lipped strangers and the words you long to hear. Just scavengers to pick your brains and gnaw your bones. Just strangers to squander your blood and your trust. You are here, just as alive as anyone. It’s as much yours as anybody else’s, the kingdom and the glory another damn fairy story missing the glimmer of truth. Leaves spilling from the gutters as the forest is punished tree by tree. This is how you think of me. This is how you think of me.