trapped in the new year

anticipating calamities. israel/palestine, brexit, trump, syria, refugees everywhere crashing into intolerance and cruelty. the world k and her peers will have to confront, left to them to make better. a sorry world. and here i still am, trapped in a chair, barely moving hands inexorably contorting to their own calamity. nothing i can do now.

all the things i wanted to be throughout my life were active. poet, scholar, activist, actor, director, editor, artist, designer. maker of things. now ending like this. except its not ending. why not? it needs to end. i need to end.

biopolitics. irony of its totalising reality. not capillary power. it coalesces instead. a central proscription. you will not be enabled to a final fear free, pain free end. this is what they see as ‘reasonable limits’. i hope everyone who takes that position suffers as i do. i feel vindictive about this. let them suffer what they impose, thinking this is moral, they are elevated. entitled. be grateful. doled out in antagonised defences ‘but i am here to help’. yes, help yourself. protect your comfort. as you do what most any person takes for granted, standing up, leaving the room, picking something up. drinking their drink. you have no idea. and you are hateful and selfish. i say so.

does this apply to the world? yes. that too.


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